Surcease
by Soleil2
Summary: Future Fic and sort of AU. A what if fic. B/A eventually
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: Surcease  
  
AUTHOR: Soleil  
  
E-MAIL:soliel9708@aol.com  
  
DISCLAIMER:Really and truly, not mine. For a while I was delusional and thought that they were. Fortunately the nice doctors set me straight.  
  
TIMELINE: Future fic. And really, really au.  
  
SPOILERS:I believe in being overly cautious. The whole thing. Angel too. Everything. I think that covers it.  
  
SYNOPSIS:Ok, certain things that happened on the show did not happen in thi s fic. I started writing a few years ago. So, Joyce is dead. Buffy died and came back. But the last meeting between Angel and Buffy was in Sanctuary. They never saw each other after that. (As much as this pains me, because I loved Forever) Couples are B/A, C/W. Wi/O , B/other  
  
DISTRIBUTION: If you want, it's yours. Just let me know where it's going? AUTHOR'S NOTES:Angsty. I'm a happy person. Really. You just wouldn't know it from my stories. FEEDBACK: Please?  
  
  
  
"Shouldn't they be at home? They're too young to be here," a nurse whispered to her friend from behind a clipboard.  
  
Her friend looked at the motley crew slumped in the uncomfortable hospital chairs. "You try getting them to go home. I'm off in fifteen minutes… And I've had no luck. They won't budge." Her eyes wandered over the three little girls. "But for the record, I agree with you." She glanced at the room behind her. The steady beat of the life support system was the only sound that could be heard. The artificial respirator clapped and reverberated through the hall.  
  
The first nurse looked up from the chart she working on and checked her watch. "His time is almost up. I don't suppose that I'd have any luck if I told them that visiting hours were over and that they should all go home?" Her voice was hopeful but her expression was resigned. "Why don't you start to make your way out? It's my turn to be the bad guy anyways."  
  
The second nurse looked at her watch. Her face registered her relief at her friend's offer. She hated being the bad guy. "Thank you," she breathed. "I owe you."  
  
"Next time I need a puppy kicked, I'll call."  
  
The nurse laughed quietly and walked to the elevator doors. The first nurse took a deep breath and made her way to the patient's room. The setting sun shone through the windows and lit up the older man sitting by the bed. His fingers rhythmically squeezed the young woman's, mimicking the beat of the respirator. He didn't speak, but his mouth was slightly open, as if he were about to launch into a speech. The nurse waited for a minute, then two, but when she saw that he wasn't going to speak to the young woman, she cleared her throat. "Sir," she paused when he looked up. "I'm sorry, but I need to check her vital signs." The man continued to stare, not moving. "You're going to have to leave the room, sir. Visiting hours are almost over."  
  
He nodded slowly, then blinked. His eyes focused slowly on the nurse's figure. "Yes," he mumbled. "Yes, of course." He stood slowly, feeling closer to eighty than sixty. Reluctantly, he let go of the woman's hand and bent to kiss her forehead. "Come back to us soon. Nobody wants to do this without you."  
  
"Sir?" The nurse's voice stopped him at the doorway. "I don't suppose that you can convince the girls to go home?" The tenor of her voice expressed her doubt, but she had to ask.  
  
"They're stubborn. They got it from their mother."  
  
"I had to try. It's my job and all."  
  
"Yes, of course," he repeated. The door closed softly behind him. He paused momentarily, leaning against the wired glass window. Slowly he counted to ten and then back to one and up to ten again as he tried to regain his composure. His mind skittered over the image of the young woman in the bed and his steady breathing hitched before he could gain control. He tried to square his shoulders and project the image of the stiff British upper lip, but the best he could manage was barely held together and he left the support of the door to go face his friends, his family, waiting for him in the hallway.  
  
Willow's red head was bent over Gilly's little blonde one. She lifted her eyes as she heard his footsteps approach the chairs. Patting the seat next to her, she asked Giles the question that was present in all of their minds, "No change?"  
  
Giles shook his head and eased himself into the chair. "My these seats are uncomfortable." He shook his head again. "No, no change. I kept waiting for her to wake up and … But she didn't," he trailed off. "How are the girls doing?"  
  
Willow kissed the top of Gilly's head. The little girl was snoring softly against Willow's chest. "As well as the rest of us. Cinda and Gilly are too young to know what's going on, I think. But," she paused and then stopped. Her gaze wandered over the young girl huddled between Xander and her aunt. Chloe's eyes were swollen from crying and her lip trembled occasionally as she suppressed another sob.  
  
Giles' eyes followed Willow's. "Chloe's not." Willow nodded against Gilly's head. Giles sighed and shifted in the chair as he studied the little girl in front of him. Her brown hair straggled out of its ponytail and fell in soft wisps against her face. "She's old enough to remember Jack," he continued the rest of Willow's thought.  
  
Chloe looked over at Giles. She sniffled and leaned closer into the circle of Xander's arms. "Are you going to call him?"  
  
Her voice startled the people in the hallway. They looked over the girl. Giles straightened at the sound and braced himself for the fight that would follow the girl's question. He had always been a source of discord for the group. Whenever they needed a good fight, they always mentioned his name and got the result that they were seeking. Giles watched Xander's arms tighten around Chloe's shoulders. She turned to look at him. "Are you going to call my dad?"  
  
"I…"  
  
"Giles?" she turned back to the older man.  
  
He tried to think of a way to answer the question. Willow shifted and moved Gilly into her husband's arms. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything as he accepted the still sleeping two year old. "I think we should." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper but it carried. She raised her eyes to see Xander slowly nod his head. Dawn closed her eyes, pressed her lips together, but managed to nod. Even Riley nodded.  
  
"I'll call." Xander volunteered. Everyone's eyes flew to his face. "Look, he doesn't like me, right?" He waited for the collective nods. "Well, then he'd be most likely to believe me. I wouldn't call him for anything. Except this," he said. "Except this."  
  
"Do you want to use my cell?" Willow offered, reaching for her purse.  
  
"No cell phones in ICU, remember?" Xander passed Chloe to Dawn, who pulled her niece into a tight hug and kissed her forehead. He stood walked past the line of eyes as he made his way to the phone bank at the end of the hallway. Slipping the change into the phone, he quickly dialed the number that Buffy had made him memorize if there were ever an emergency. He couldn't think of a better time to use it.  
  
"Angel Investigations, we hope the helpless, I mean help the hopeless," a voice sang in his ear. Xander struggled to place the voice with a face but couldn't.  
  
"May I speak to Angel please? Or Cordelia," he quickly amended his request. "Can I speak to Cordelia?"  
  
"Can I ask whose calling please?" The voice seemed warier and a great deal less friendly.  
  
"An old friend." Xander was reluctant to give his name. The old insecurities still surfaced when confronted with his ex-girlfriend. "It's important. Kind of an emergency."  
  
"I need a name, please." The voice was quietly insistent.  
  
"Trace, who's on the phone?" Xander could hear Cordelia's voice in the background.  
  
"Some guy, says he's an old friend and that it's an emergency, but he won't give his name." The voice answered.  
  
"An old friend?" Curious, Cordelia picked up the extension and waited until she saw Tracey hang up the phone. "Hello?"  
  
"Cordelia?"  
  
"This is she." She frowned into the phone. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it. Absently, she tapped her pencil against her desk blotter and waited for the voice to identify itself. "Who's this?" she asked after a moment.  
  
"It's - it's Xander."  
  
The pencil fell from her fingers. Cordelia glanced wildly around the office, as if to make sure that no one else heard him. But the other occupants were involved with research and weren't paying attention to her conversation. "What do you want?" Her voice was coldly curious. She hadn't spoken to anyone from Sunnydale in over eleven years. Which, she noted with mild amusement, was odd, considering that they were in the same line of work.  
  
"I…" Xander paused and took a deep breath for courage to say the next words out loud. He hadn't said anything since he got the call from a hysterical Willow over seven hours ago. "It's Buffy." He managed at last.  
  
"What about her?" Cordelia picked up a nail file that she had found in her drawer and began to file her nails. She didn't want to have anything to do with that part of her life again. She didn't want Angel to have to face that part of his life again. He was happy. -Er. He was happier with Kate. His next sentence, however, caused her to drop the file.  
  
"She's dying." Xander leaned against the wall as dizziness set in. His eyes focused on a chip in the bright orange paint of the hallway. It was the first time he had actually said the words out loud.  
  
"Dying?" Cordelia squeaked. Wesley's and Angel's heads snapped up at the sound. Both men stood and started to approach the desk but Cordelia shooed them back to their respective seats with a gesture of her hand. "What do you mean?"  
  
"She was attacked, earlier today. Willow found…" His voice broke and he raised his eyes to the ceiling, begging for control. "Willow found her bleeding in her kitchen. Buffy's kitchen. Angel should be here," he continued. He rushed on before Cordelia could interrupt with a list of reasons why Angel should not be in Sunnydale. "I know all the reasons that you're going to give and I also know that they don't apply anymore."  
  
"How did-"  
  
"Demon grapevine. We've known for years. Cordy, he needs to be here. I don't know if she's going to make it through the night."  
  
"Deposit twenty cents, please." A mechanical voice broke into the conversation.  
  
Xander glanced down the hallway. "I've got to go. What should I tell them?"  
  
Cordelia sighed and looked at her boss and her husband. "Tell them I'll tell him."  
  
"Thank you." Xander hung up the phone, resting his head against the receiver.  
  
In Los Angeles, Cordelia stared at the phone before placing it back in its cradle. She rubbed her hands over her eyes before looking at Angel and Wesley. God, she wished that Xander had never called. That he hadn't thought that Angel deserved one last good bye. She wouldn't have called, she told herself. She wouldn't have given Buffy any type of recognition. They hadn't called when Angel turned human, why should Sunnydale call when Buffy - when Buffy died. She took a deep breath. "Angel." She waited until he looked up from his book. "I have something to tell you."  
  
  
  
"He's not going to come, is he?" Chloe whispered into her aunt's neck.  
  
Dawn looked down at the eleven year old. She reminded her so much of her mother at that moment. Her eyes looked too old for her baby face. "I don't know," she whispered back. "I have no idea."  
  
"I thought that he loved Mommy," her voice was higher-pitched than usual and slightly whiney, reminding Dawn that she was still a little girl despite everything. She hugged her tighter, wishing that a hug would make things better this time.  
  
The minutes ticked by. Tara, Willow, Oz, Riley, and Giles passed Cinda and Gilly from one lap to the next as they stood to stretch or use the bathroom, each one reluctant to give up the children that reminded them so much of their mother. Chloe remained lodged between Xander and Dawn, switching from one pair of arms to the other as time wore on. The nurse who had asked Giles to leave the room watched the group curiously. Her eyes drifted to the clock above their heads and noted with surprise that two hours had passed already. She quickly jotted down the last of her notes, waved good-bye to her colleagues, and with a last look at the crowd in the hallway, exited the building as fast as she could.  
  
Willow murmured into her husband's ear and passed Gilly to Giles. When she returned, Oz looked at his wife over the top of Cinda's head. "Did you get a hold of your mom?"  
  
She nodded. "Robbie's okay," she said, referring to their son. "My mom is really enjoying being a grandmother. She's lecturing him about the use of mythology as a vehicle for teaching morality in today's pop culture."  
  
"And he's enjoying that."  
  
"According to my mom. Personally I can't wait until he gets old enough to tell her that she's full of shit. But he's two."  
  
"We have to wait a bit."  
  
Listening to their conversation, Giles chuckled into Gilly's hair. He had always admired the courage that these people had. Looking around the room, he had never been prouder of his children. The laugh caught in his throat as he thought about how Buffy would have been proud of them, too.  
  
Chloe drifted off to sleep, leaning against Xander. As she sank below the surface of consciousness, she was dimly aware of her aunt and Giles' whispering. She heard their murmured doubts and squeezed her eyes tighter. He had to come, she repeated over and over in her head until the mantra blocked out the other voices and she slept.  
  
Willow noticed them first. She stood slowly, moving Cinda into the seat that she had just vacated. "My god," she breathed. Still good-looking after all these year, she noted. All four of them looked good, more like actors than people who spent their lives fighting evil. Their black clothes blended into each other, giving the impression of a wall. A wall that seemed to be rather unyielding and certainly not forgiving. She had hoped, oh she had hoped, that the news of Buffy would be enough to mend the tears, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect.  
  
Hearing her gasp, Oz looked down the hallway and saw the four people standing quietly at the end of it. Slowly, the rest of them began to stand. The two groups watched each other from the opposite ends of the corridor, neither making a move. "You came." Willow said at last.  
  
"You called." Angel took a quick inventory of their faces. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting but they looked the same. Buffy's allies, still banding together to protect her. He shouldn't have come. Sunnydale hadn't been his home in years; he didn't even recognize some of the people studying him. Willow pushed her hair out her eyes and moved into Oz's arms. He gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulder and a reassuring smile. Xander straightened his spine and shoved his hands into his pockets. Giles and Dawn leaned against each other, as if their balance depended upon the support. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the three little girls asleep on the plastic chairs. A voice in his head screamed, 'They're hers. Not only did she move on, she really moved on.' He opened his mouth to ask about her.  
  
"Code Blue! Call the Doctor!" a nurse shouted. Angel closed his mouth as they turned to watch the nurses' station erupt into a flurry of activity. Over the commotion, they could hear the high-pitched squeal of a heart monitor as it flat-lined. The floor flooded with nurses and doctors as they wheeled the crash cart through the hallway.  
  
"Oh god, oh god, oh god." Willow gripped her husband's arm as they waited to see what room the doctors were entering. Giles moved his arm around Dawn's shoulders as she began to shake, his heart cracking in two when he watched the nurses hurry into Buffy's room. "Please no," Willow whispered.  
  
"That's not - That's not…" Cordelia tried to finish the sentence but found that the words wouldn't come. The expressions of horror on the faces turned towards the door confirmed what she had been trying to ask. That was Buffy's room. She glanced up at Angel, expecting to find the same type of expression on his face but it was blank. Her fingers tightened reflexively around Wesley's; she was comforted when they gripped back.  
  
"We'll take the girls out of here." Tara volunteered when she noticed that the girls had woken up from the noise. Chloe's knees were tucked under her chin and her arms had snaked around her shins. Gathering up a sleepy Gilly, Tara crouched in front of Chloe. "Chlo, why don't you come with us?" She held her hand out and sighed when the girl shook her head. "Please," Tara pleaded.  
  
"I'm not leaving. Please let me stay," she begged. Xander looked at Tara and shrugged. Giles nodded as Tara looked towards him for confirmation. She turned to catch up with Riley as he carried a sniffling and confused Cinda out of the ward.  
  
Chloe rested her cheek against her knees and faced Angel for the first time that night. He barely contained his gasp as he saw her face. She looked exactly like her mother. She looked like his sister. Cordelia felt his arm jerk next to hers and looked up to see what had surprised him. Her own eyes widened as they fell on the child who was a perfect blend of Angel and Buffy. The girl's eyes were red and puffy but they were Angel's dark brown and shaped like Buffy's. Her brown hair was more or less pulled back from a miniature version of Buffy's face. But her voice, her voice was so young when she asked, "Can you do something?"  
  
Too late, the thought echoed in his mind like thunder. We're too late. I'm too late, he added as he studied the girl's face. It had been years since Angel had seen Buffy. When their relationship ended abruptly after he helped Faith, he had refused to speak about her. Cordelia and Wesley soon stopped trying to give him updates about her life and then, slowly, they too lost track of her life. He had heard vague rumors about her having children but he always assumed that they were just that - rumors. Although at one point in his life, he had wanted nothing more for her, he stopped caring eventually, and secretly thought that the rumors couldn't have been true because she was too young to have three children. Certainly too young to be dying. But now he was confronted with the truth. Buffy had children. Three little girls and one looked like him.  
  
He was brought out of his reverie as Chloe questioned him again. "Can you do something?"  
  
"I - no. I can't." His voice was quiet and the others had to strain to catch his answer. Chloe opened her mouth again but she was interrupted by the approach of the doctor. The click of the doctor's heels on the linoleum was the only sound in the hallway.  
  
"Excuse me." The doctor cleared her throat. She turned to Dawn and Giles. "Are you Buffy Whittaker's family?"  
  
Cordelia, Angel, and Wesley started again at the last name. "I thought Riley's last name was Finn?" Wesley muttered under his breath.  
  
"So did I," Angel answered.  
  
"I'm Buffy's sister; our mother's dead," Dawn answered the doctor. "Dawn Summers," she introduced herself. Dawn cupped her elbows in her hands and shifted against Giles' side. Her fingers slowly tightened as she waited for the doctor to give her the news that her sister had died.  
  
"Ms. Summers, can I talk to you in private?" The doctor moved to take her arm so that she could guide her into another room but Dawn jerked back.  
  
"Everyone here is family."  
  
The doctor looked at the cluster of people and shrugged. She had been at the hospital since six that morning. She was tired and wanted to leave more than she ever thought possible. Given that, she didn't feel like quibbling with a distraught sister over the medical definition of a family. "Ms. Summers, your sister suffered a severe shock due to the blood loss. Her system couldn't support the extent of her injuries. She flat-lined but," she quickly inserted, "we were able to resuscitate her."  
  
"Thank God," Dawn sobbed.  
  
"Ms. Summers, I'm not going to lie to you. She's still very weak and her condition is still unstable. But on the good side, I think that if she can make it through the night, she might be able to pull through."  
  
"What are the chances that she'll make it through the night?" Giles asked.  
  
"I'm sorry." The doctor sighed internally. "They're not very good." She paused, waiting to see if there were any other questions, but the hallway was silent. She turned to leave but Giles stopped him.  
  
"Can we see her?"  
  
The doctor looked at him. "Visiting hours are over," this time she sighed out loud, "but I think under the circumstances, of course. Just not for long."  
  
Giles lowered Dawn into a chair and looked at Angel. "Why don't you go?" he asked him gently. "Room 216," he added.  
  
When Angel didn't move, Chloe spoke up. "Would it be - Could I go see her?" She looked at Giles. "Please." She pointed to Angel. "He doesn't want to see her. Please let me. Please." Chloe clasped her hands and begged. She adopted the same attitude she had used when she had to have the pink bike, that sweater, and those shoes. Giles could never resist that face. Neither could Xander. The only person capable of resistance was her mother. Reluctantly, he nodded.  
  
"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," she breathed and ran towards her mother's room.  
  
"Someone should go with her," Dawn sniffled. "She shouldn't be alone." She stood up and started after her niece. "I don't want to be here for the next part anyway," she mumbled under her breath. Her shoulders hunched against another sob and she pressed a hand to her lips. Sighing and pushing back her hair with her other hand, she turned towards Angel. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you for coming." Her hand rested on his arm for a moment, then withdrew, and she left the group to explain.  
  
Watching Dawn's retreating back, Cordelia quirked an eyebrow. "Does someone care to explain now?"  
  
"Congratulations, Cordelia," Willow offered, nodding at Cordelia's stomach. Her eyes slid to the woman standing next to Angel. "Are you going to introduce us?"  
  
"Thanks. Kate, this is Willow, Xander, that's Giles, and that's Oz. Everyone this is Kate." Cordelia recognized the stall tactic but decided to indulge Willow and gestured to the blonde woman.  
  
The woman gave them a half smile and waved. She wished desperately that she had stayed in Los Angeles. She wasn't necessary here. If she hadn't been so self-conscious and unsure of her relationship with Angel, she could have been snuggled up on her couch watching old movies and waiting for her lover's return.  
  
"Now, how about the explanation," Cordelia prompted.  
  
Giles sat down heavily and put his head in his hands. Relinquishing her grip on her husband's arm, Willow sat next to him. Absently she moved her hand over his back in large, slow circles like she did with her son when he had nightmares. "There's really not much of a story to tell," she said. "Buffy had off today and I guess she was going to swim or…. Anyway, I found her in the kitchen. We were supposed to meet for lunch and she never showed," Willow shrugged and shook her head, willing the images to go away. "Someone had attacked her. Tara, she was the one who took Gilly out of the…where'd they go anyway?" Willow asked Oz.  
  
"Willow," Cordelia ground the word between her teeth.  
  
"Oh, sorry. Where was I? Oh right, Tara. Tara's a witch. She's really powerful and I guess that my emotions were interfering with my abilities. Tara said that Buffy had a spell put on her. It made her normal for a minute or two. Kind of like the when she turned eighteen. I guess they only needed a minute though. He, she, it stabbed her…. And I found her two hours after we were supposed to meet for lunch." Willow's eyes filled. She stared at the space above Cordelia's head. Her throat convulsed as she swallowed.  
  
"It wasn't your fault, Will." Xander and Oz interrupted her monologue at the same time. Oz moved next to his wife. "It's okay, Will," he soothed. "It wasn't your fault." Willow nodded, but wouldn't look at him. Placing a finger under her chin, he moved her face so that he could look into her eyes. "Not your fault."  
  
Her gaze slid to Angel's. "There was so much blood, I couldn't stop it. It was everywhere. The people in the ambulance said it was a miracle that she was still alive." Now that Willow had started talking, she couldn't seem to stop. "It was all over me. And her floor. I don't know how we're going to clean it up before she gets out of the hospital," she addressed this last comment to Oz and Xander.  
  
Oz met Xander's eyes and nodded. "C'mon, baby. We'll go take a look for the girls." Willow stared at him but let him lead her to the elevators. "We'll be right back," he said over his shoulder.  
  
Xander watched them walk away and then turned back to the others. "It's hard for her," he explained. "Not only did she find her, but Willow was really mad at Buffy before she found her. Buffy had a history of missing lunch dates from time to time and she had promised Willow that she would be there this time. She was talking to me… she was talking to me when she found her," he paused and took a deep breath. "I don't think that I'll ever get the sound of her scream out of my head."  
  
Giles put a comforting hand on Xander's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. "She had called me right before she called you," he chuckled slightly as he remembered the conversation. "I haven't heard her that angry in a very long time."  
  
Kate spoke for the first time that evening, "Why did Buffy have a history of missing lunches?" The moment the words left her lips, she closed her mouth quickly, unsure of whether she should have said something. Uncomfortable as the attention turned to her, she squirmed closer in her chair towards Angel.  
  
"Work," Xander replied after a minute. "She would get caught up in work and not even notice that time had gone by. Her co-workers used to have to kick her out at the end of the day."  
  
"Excuse me? Work? Buffy? Why have I never associated those two words? When did Buffy suddenly get a work ethic?" Cordelia's voice questioned derisively.  
  
Xander looked up from his hands. His voice was soft and quiet as he answered, "That is the first and last shot that you get at Buffy's expense. You don't get to say another word about her - not that way at least. She's in there, dying, because of-"  
  
"Xander!" Giles' voice broke in sharply. "Do be quiet before you say something that you'll regret."  
  
Xander mumbled something under his breath that caused the older man to blush, but didn't continue his sentence.  
  
Kate's curiosity was aroused as she watched the by-play between the two men. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask because of what, but something held her back. As she observed Xander and Giles, both tense and ill at ease because of something more than Buffy's injuries, she realized that it was safer not knowing the answer to her question. She had a feeling that the answer could have very serious repercussions for everyone in the hallway, herself included. Her fingers tightened on Angel's arm, as if their pressure could keep him by her side forever.  
  
"I'm sorry," Cordelia offered tentatively. "I didn't mean anything. I just remembered Buffy as being very work bad, fun good."  
  
"A lot has changed." Giles smiled at Cordelia to let her know that her apology was accepted.  
  
"What changed her?" Angel's voice sounded hesitant, almost as if he was frightened of the answer. He desperately wanted to know about the little girl with his eyes, the one that Tara called Chlo, but he couldn't bring himself to ask about her. He leaned back against the wall, loosening Kate's grip with his movement. He understood her fears, and wanted to reassure her, but he didn't have the strength or the certain knowledge that everything was going to be okay.  
  
"Danni." Willow's voice startled them. She turned to Giles and Xander for their confirmation. "It would have to be Danni, wouldn't it?" When she saw their nods, she sat down next to Xander and leaned against his back.  
  
Cordelia held her breath and slowly counted to ten. Her fingers clenched and unclenched before she could regain control of her emotions. "Who is Danni?" she squeaked, trying not to scream out her frustration.  
  
"It's kind of hard to explain," Willow offered as an excuse for their lack of explanations. "She's Chloe's best friend now. She lives next door to Buffy. Um, Buffy met her when she was…. God, how old was Danni?" She twisted her head to look at Giles.  
  
"Um, about Gilly's age, yes, I believe she was about two years old."  
  
"Right. Anyway," she continued, "Buffy was in the hospital with Chloe. Or at the hospital? Which is more correct?" She shook her head and blushed when she saw everyone watching her debate. "Chloe was sick, she was only a couple of months old and she had a really high fever. Buffy was a really good first time mom. She hardly ever panicked and she didn't worry nearly as much I did when Robbie was a newborn, but she couldn't bring Chloe's fever down so the doctor said to bring her to the hospital and he'd take care of her. While Buffy was waiting for the doctor, there was this little girl in waiting room. The nurses couldn't get her to speak and she wouldn't move. Her parents had been killed by vampires. At least that's what Buffy thought had happened.  
  
"So Buffy sat next to her and started to talking to her. The nurses had told Buffy that they were waiting for someone from family services to come pick her up but there was some kind of problem. Danni fell in love with Buffy. She wouldn't do anything without Buffy. Buffy started taking Chloe to see her at the home and the counselors were always so relieved to see her. Danni wouldn't talk without Buffy, she was miserable. So Buffy started to play a role in her case file. It was unconventional to say the least, but the counselors were overworked and were willing to take any help that they could get with Danni."  
  
"I think that Buffy would have adopted Danni, if she could," Oz added.  
  
Willow nodded her head vigorously. "I always thought so too. But there was Chloe and Dawn. The house was already crowded. She just couldn't do it."  
  
"Boy, you go away for ten years, never look back, and things really change," Cordelia said. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. It had been a very long day and the night was proving to be incredibly confusing. Her back ached and her feet were swelling, but she couldn't leave Angel. She didn't want him to be alone in Sunnydale. More importantly, she wanted to be able to stem the brooding, stopping it before it became all-consuming like it was when she first met him in Los Angeles.  
  
"Go figure," Willow said, but without any animosity. "Danni really changed Buffy. After helping with her adoption, Buffy decided that she wanted to be a social worker so that she could help other kids like Danni. She actually became a psychologist and got her masters in social work. She's really done a lot." Willow's voice shimmered with pride. It was written on the faces of Giles, Xander, and Oz, too.  
  
Not for the first time that night, Angel had the distinct feeling that he didn't belong in Sunnydale. Not anymore and certainly not in Buffy's life. She had not only moved on, she had carved out an entirely different life for herself. He didn't have a place in that life. He shifted in the chair, then stood abruptly. He needed air; he needed to be someplace else besides this hospital.  
  
Willow watched Angel rise and slowly stood herself. With a quick glance at Giles, she placed a hand on Angel's arm. "Angel, do you mind taking a walk with me?" Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed Giles' nod and took a deep breath. "There are things…there are things that I need to tell you."  
  
A muscle in Angel's jaw clenched and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but he nodded his assent and let Willow lead him through the corridors.  
  
The night air washed over them as they emerged at the front of the hospital. There was no moon and the stars were half obscured by clouds. Although the red lights of a recently arrived ambulance bounced off the cars in the parking lot, they didn't create enough light to fight off the gloominess of the night. An eerie combination of summer and despair hovered around in the air around the hospital. In the distance, Willow could hear the soft sound of crickets. Around the hospital, it was silent. A few people lingered around the door, their faces tense as they dragged smoke out of cigarettes and sipped coffee. The glow of their cigarettes punctuated the sidewalk with little reds lights.  
  
Still holding Angel's arm, Willow lead him away from the entrance and anyone that might overhear their conversation. She waited to speak until she was sure that they could have a private conversation. The further she moved from the hospital's doors, the more she wished she could keep walking. If she could only get to her house, to her son, she could go to sleep and pretend that this had never had happened. She could pretend that Buffy was asleep in her own house, that they would wake up and have Saturday morning breakfast at Buffy's house like they always did. But she couldn't do it; instead, she thought with a sigh, she had to tell her best friend's ex-boyfriend about his daughter.  
  
Angel didn't speak, she noticed. He wasn't going to make this any easier for Willow. "You saw her," she decided that the direct approach was best. "You saw Chloe."  
  
Angel nodded, but remained silent. Willow's next words, however, would change him, his world forever. "Buffy remembered. Everything," Willow added so that there would be no confusion. "Chloe's yours," she said gently.  
  
Angel half staggered, half stumbled to the edge of the curb and sat down. He put elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. Concerned, Willow crouched besides him and rubbed her hand down his back. He looked up at the sky before talking. "Why didn't she tell me?" his voice was barely above a whisper.  
  
Willow flinched on Buffy's behalf, then shrugged. "I wish I could tell you. I can only say that she was going to tell you. I don't know what stopped her." Willow's eyes searched the sky for a star to wish upon. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in her ears as she attempted to explain her best friend's actions. "She never told me what happened, but she was going to tell you that night that she went to L.A. to help you with Faith." Willow felt Angel jump under hand. "I suspect," she said, "that you might have more answers than me."  
  
He shook his head in denial. "No," he choked. "No. I don't." His head slumped into his hands again and his shoulders shook once, then twice, before he gained control over his body. He remembered his last meeting with Buffy with perfect clarity. And he knew why she didn't tell him about the baby then. He toed loose gravel with his foot and tried to compose himself. Absently, he noted Willow's hand moving slowly over his back, the headlights of passing cars, and the soft air of summer, but he couldn't connect to the physical world. His mind refused to focus.  
  
"Angel…" Willow stopped, unsure of how to proceed. "Angel, do you want to…do you want to meet your daughter?" she finished her question in a rush. She watched him closely for a reaction. When none was forthcoming, she jostled his shoulder slightly. "Angel?"  
  
He never thought that he would ever hear those words. Even when he earned his humanity, he hadn't believed it possible to have a child again. Hadn't wanted to believe it. The fear that overtook him left him nauseous in its wake. He didn't want to live through that again. After two hundred odd years on the planet, except for that one brief period, he'd grown used to life without them. He had told himself that he was too used to a selfish lifestyle to open his house up to children, satisfying lies that masked the pain, but now he was faced with the dilemma of doing just that or ignoring the one person on the planet with real blood ties to him. Slowly, and with more fear than he ever thought possible, Angel nodded. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I'd like to meet my daughter."  
  
Willow smiled for the first time that night and stood up. After she brushed the dirt from the back of her skirt, she offered her hand to Angel. "Well, then, come on."  
  
By the time they rejoined the group in the hallway, Dawn and Chloe had returned and Xander and Giles were visiting Buffy. Willow felt Angel's hand tense in his. "Relax," she whispered, knowing that it was easier to say than do. "She knows about you. She was the one who wanted to call you."  
  
Angel nodded, not looking at Willow. Willow smiled to herself. She was standing next to man who had fought unspeakable evil, who had wreaked unspeakable evil, and had won. He had defeated his demon and the legions that came to stop him and an almost eleven-year-old girl terrified him. "Chloe," she called out. Chloe's raised her head from her aunt's shoulder at the sound of her name. "Chloe, sweetie, could you come here for a moment?"  
  
Chloe glanced at Dawn for permission. When she received it, she walked slowly over to Angel and Willow. "What?" she asked sullenly. She crossed her arms and stared at the scuffed tile beneath her sneakered feet.  
  
"Chloe, look at me." Willow waited until the girl complied before continuing. "Chloe, I'd like you to meet your father. Angel, this is Chloe. Chloe, Angel." She sighed as the two figures stared miserably at each other. "Well, I think I'll just leave you two to get to know…" she trailed off at Angel's glare, but smiled sweetly in return. "Bye." She waved.  
  
"Hi," Angel said after some length.  
  
"Hi," Chloe mumbled in return.  
  
"Um, do you, do you want to take a walk?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"Go sit down?"  
  
Another shake of the head.  
  
"Have you eaten yet tonight?" Angel instinctively knew the answer was going to be no. "Come on, I'll buy you dinner." He rested his hand lightly against her back, relieved when she let him lead her to the cafeteria.  
  
From their position in the waiting area, Willow and Dawn watched the man and the young girl disappear down the hall. They smiled ruefully at each other and then sighed. If Buffy recovered, she was going to kill them.  
  
When Angel and Chloe returned to the ICU, they found the gang assembled and waiting for them. Willow smiled when she saw Angel carrying Chloe. Something must have happened. Although she understood her reasoning, Willow had never approved of Buffy keeping Chloe a secret from Angel. The fights that had arisen after Buffy had died were immense in their scope. The people who supported telling Angel about Chloe had lost, but Willow had always held out hope that Angel would learn about his daughter one day. The smile grew when Xander tried to take Chloe, who left Angel's arms with great reluctance. "It's your turn," Xander said by way of explanation and stepped back to let the man pass him.  
  
The woman on the bed bore little resemblance to the Buffy Summers that had come to L.A. ten years ago. Wires and tubes wove their way under her bedclothes and surgical tape covered eyes. The only indication that she was still alive was the beep of the heart monitor. Her skin was shades paler than its usual tan. Angel had been prepared to find a fragile and breakable woman, but not this. She looked more like a freakish science project than the woman he remembered. He understood why Chloe sounded skeptical when Dawn had told her that Buffy was just sleeping. The person in the bed was a shell, just a body - not Chloe's mother.  
  
He lowered himself into the chair next to the bed and clasped her hand, ignoring the flash of pain from the diamond on her wedding ring; half hoping that she would curl her fingers around his. Her hand, however, remained limp. He brushed hair off her face and sighed. He didn't know what to say, where to begin, and how to edit himself. So much of what he had to say, well, he was pretty sure that she had to be healthy to hear it. The biggest question was why. Why hadn't she told him about Chloe? He knew that she had been angry when she left L. A. all those years ago, but a lot of time had passed. There were so many times when she could have spoken up, could have called him. And, of course, he would have believed her. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. There were a few flaws in his reasoning.  
  
"God, Buffy. What a mess we made." He lapsed back into silence, staring at the wall across him. The emotions of night crept up on him and he felt his eyelids drifting shut. His fingers tightened around Buffy's hand and he slept. 


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy Summers-Whitaker, thirty-one, widow, and mother of three, woke groggily and feeling like on of the Initiative's less successful experiments. Shit, Willow's going to kill me, was her first thought. How long have I been sleeping? Then she noticed that her eyes wouldn't open and something was making her breath. And someone or something was holding her hand down. Oh, God, oh God. Please, don't let me be dead. Visions of Professor Walsh and Doctor Spiderman, no Sider-, no Snider - Not the point! Her brain screamed - danced through her head. She really didn't want to be like them. Her free hand fluttered over her stomach searching for the tubes that would indicate that she was like them. OW! What the hell? That really hurt. Ok, she continued her rambling internal monologue, dead people didn't feel pain, right? At least, she didn't remember feeling it the last time.  
  
She couldn't be dead. She was supposed to bake cookies for Cinda's kindergarten class. Well, bake, buy the terms were synonymous really. The teacher was a very understanding man and cute, too. Focus, Buffy, her voice screamed again. Check for a pulse. Do something. Oh, everyone was going to be so mad at her if she died.  
  
The pressure on her left hand disappeared and Buffy began to panic. If she could only open her eyes. Her fingers were moving towards her face when she heard a voice say, "Well good morning, Mrs. Whittaker, you gave us quite a scare last night."  
  
Please, let's not be so formal. Call me Buffy, everyone does. Last night? What happened to the afternoon?  
  
"Okay now, Mrs. Whittaker, I want you to take a deep breath and then exhale when I tell you, alright?"  
  
Buffy nodded and heard the click of buttons. She could hear whispering in the background, then the voice came back again. "Alright, deep breath, then exhale." The tube slid out of Buffy's mouth and she took a shaky breath. Somebody removed something from her eyes and she cautiously opened them, blinking against the sudden light. White ceiling tiling, she noticed. It didn't answer any of her questions. She gasped involuntarily when an unfamiliar face loomed over her. It smile at her then removed a small flashlight from its pocket and shined it in her eyes. "Welcome back." The face smiled.  
  
"Thanks," Buffy choked out. The man reached beside him and slipped an ice chip into her mouth. Buffy sucked greedily, grateful for the liquid. Her throat felt like she had swallowed half of her kids' sandbox.  
  
"I'm Doctor Anderson. I think there are some people who want to see you."  
  
Cautiously, Buffy turned her head so that she could see the doorway. Giles and her sister stood behind the doctor. Willow and Oz were by the foot of the bed. Xander held Chloe in his arms. Cordelia and Wesley hovered by the door and Angel and some woman were on her left side. They all looked haggard and worn; Willow and Dawn had red lines on the sides of their faces from the chairs and Chloe's hair was more out its ponytail than in it. She hadn't seen them look this bad since they went camping in Yellowstone and the coyotes had kept them up all night. Even Angel - Angel was here. In Sunnydale. Standing next to his daughter. The daughter he didn't know about until now. Why wasn't she dead? Really, it would be much easier to be dead at this point in time.  
  
"Anybody get the number of that truck?" she croaked out. That's it, be glib. Save the long explanations and angst filled conversations for later. She lifted her arms and looked at Chloe. "Come here, baby."  
  
Chloe scrambled out of Xander's arms and flew to her mother's side. Sobbing now, she acquiesced when Buffy patted the bed and pulled her into an embrace. Rubbing her hand over her daughter's head, she soothed, "Ssh, baby, it's all right. Don't cry. Sh." She looked up at Giles and Dawn, who also had tears in their eyes. "Where are Cinda and Gilly?"  
  
"Tara took them home," Willow sniffled out an answer. "We thought it was best if they stayed at home." Oz wrapped his arms around his now crying wife as she searched her pockets for a tissue.  
  
Buffy turned to look at the one person she had studiously been avoiding. "Angel."  
  
"Buffy."  
  
"Cordelia." She moved on quickly. Her eyes widened when she saw the woman's stomach. "Congratulations." She grinned.  
  
"Umm, thanks." Cordelia stammered out, surprised by the comment. Her hands rested uncomfortably against the doorjamb. She cast a quick glance at Angel, trying to gage when the arguments would begin. Sighing, she shifted her weight and looked around the room. Its occupants were tense now. Willow kept sneaking glances at Buffy and Angel from behind her tissue. Giles and Dawn had moved to flank Buffy. Their attitudes possessive and protective. She watched as Xander inched closer to the bed until Buffy was fully surrounded by her little family.  
  
"Buffy, can I get you anything? Do you want something?" Dawn asked. Now that the crisis had passed, Dawn needed the activity. She remembered that Buffy had been the same way when their mother was sick. Her hands fluttered at the covers as she pulled and patted the blankets into place.  
  
"I don't suppose you can get me out of here?" Buffy half-joked.  
  
"The doctors have just taken you off life support," Giles pointed out. "I don't think that they're going to let you go anytime soon."  
  
"Had to ask, right, kiddo?" she asked Chloe. Chloe nodded against her mother's neck and began to dry her tears. She didn't, however, make any moves to leave her mother's arms. "Actually, could you give me a minute to talk to Angel?" Buffy scanned the concerned faces flanking her bedside. There were several nods in response to her request, but very little movement. Buffy sighed and rubbed her forehead with her good arm. "Alone?" she added.  
  
The nodding heads flushed and murmured "of courses" as the gang shuffled into the hallway. Before they could fully exit, Buffy called to them, "You do nothing until I am out of here. Nothing," she repeated, her voice firm.  
  
"Buff--" Xander began.  
  
"Nothing." Buffy sounded out the syllables.  
  
Giles, Willow, Dawn, and Oz looked at each other then at Xander. "Okay," they chimed in unison. Buffy smiled slightly, relieved at how easy that was.  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "Let me see your hands." The four blushed hideously. "I swear, you guys are worse than my kids. Not a thing."  
  
Buffy patted Chloe's back and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "You go with them, okay, sweetie?"  
  
Chloe shook her head against her mother's neck. "No, I'm not leaving you." She wrapped her arms tighter around her mother.  
  
Buffy tried to gently unwrap her daughter's arm. When Chloe wouldn't move, she glanced at Angel, who was preoccupied with the strange woman and didn't notice her predicament. "C'mon, Chloe, be a good girl and go with Aunt Willow," she said a little desperately. She really didn't want to have to use the mother voice, especially when Chloe was so upset. "Okay, Chloe, you need to let go, baby. Baby, I can't breathe."  
  
Chloe relaxed her grip a bit but wouldn't move. Damn genes, Buffy cursed. Why did her kids have to inherit the bad things like her strength? Buffy sighed and patted Chlo's head one more time. "Chloe Aisling Summers- Whittaker, let go this instant."  
  
Startled out of their conversation by Buffy's suddenly harsher tones, Angel and Kate looked up to see Chloe scramble off the bed, kiss her mother good- bye, and apologize before dashing out of the room. Angel smiled at the sight of her retreating back. He remembered when his mother had used the same tone of voice on him. He smirked in Buffy's direction; he could clearly remember times when they were dating when Buffy had complained about that very tone from her own mother.  
  
Kate cast a nervous glance at Buffy and touched Angel's arm. "I'm going to wait for you in the hallway." She bit her lower lip and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Do you want coffee or something?"  
  
"Sure," he replied, never taking his eyes off of Buffy. Peripherally, he was aware that Kate had followed his daughter, but his concentration was focused on the small blonde lying on the bed in front of him. Even though the tubes were gone, she still looked fragile. Her hair framed a too pale face, despite the beginnings of her summer tan. Her lips were dry and chapped from the respirator and circles rimmed her hazel eyes. After last night, she had never looked better.  
  
"Sunlight looks good on you." Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the room. She immediately regretted the statement even as she noticed that it was true. The light from the windows brought out highlights in his hair that she never got to see when he lived in Sunnydale. Without the shadows that had colored their nights together, she could see laugh lines at the corner of his eyes. Or maybe it wasn't the sun. Maybe it was just Angel's new life. Maybe he laughed now.  
  
"Same to you," he said after a minute.  
  
"Liar. I can see it in everyone's eyes. I must look like death warmed over." Noticing his flinch at her choice of words, she added, "Bad choice of words. I'm sorry." She waved her hand, clearing her mind, and took a deep breath. Looking him square in the eye, she asked, "You know, don't you?"  
  
"That she's my daughter? I kind of figured it out. We look alike," he answered, his voice curt. "Willow filled me in on the details."  
  
Buffy blinked back tears and reminded herself again that she made this mess, she had to clean it up. She had always dreaded this day, had always known that it would come, and have never been able to figure out how she should handle it. Of all the reunion and confrontation scenarios she had imagined, however, not one had been in a hospital with her flat on her back. "Do you mind coming a bit closer, this angle really hurts my neck?" She paused, then mostly to herself, she said, "Or maybe I could sit up."  
  
She began to fight her way into a more vertical position but stopped as the pain lanced through her chest and stomach. "Ow, ow, ow, ow!" She fell back against the bed, sweat dotting her forehead and upper lip. Catching her lip on her teeth, she closed her eyes as the nausea and pain rolled through in her waves, not noticing that Angel had rushed to her side.  
  
"Ssh," he soothed, his hand smoothing out her hair. "Lie back, it's okay. I'm going to get the doctor. I'll be right back," he promised.  
  
Her hand shot out and grabbed his. "Don't," she whispered through her teeth. Forcing herself to take a few deep breaths, she reopened her eyes. "I'm better," her voice stronger now that the pain was subsiding. "Really."  
  
Angel's doubt was sketched across his face, but he eased himself onto the bed, still stroking her hair back from her face. "You're sure?" he asked. "What if you reopened the wound? You really should have a doctor take a look."  
  
Buffy gingerly ran a hand across her stomach, her fingertips searching for wetness. "I'm fine," she reassured him, her voice quiet and low. "It's probably healing already. Although I don't think this is going to be a bikini summer for me. Aw, hell, I'm too old for it anyway." Buffy stopped and closed her eyes briefly again.  
  
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" she asked after a minute.  
  
Angel raised his eyebrows, uncertain how to answer. So he simply sat, pulling his hand back from Buffy's hair as if he had just remembered the oceans of problems that lay between them.  
  
"Chloe," Buffy prompted. "I couldn't believe how beautiful she was when they put her in my arms. She was so perfect, so tiny," she said, mostly to herself. Her eyes focused on the ceiling tiles. She couldn't turn her head or she would see the pain that she had caused Angel. It was cowardly and she knew it, but she needed the time that it would buy her.  
  
"You kept her from me." His voice was accusatory.  
  
Buffy winced, but nodded and remained silent. Her eyes trained on the cool white of the ceiling.  
  
"You had no right," he continued.  
  
Her eyes slid towards his. She deserved this, she reminded herself. She kept his daughter from him for close to eleven years. He had a right to be angry.  
  
"No right," he repeated.  
  
Okay, yes, she deserved this, but there was only so much her body could take in a twenty four-hour period. "No right?" she asked slowly. "No right. Angel, you have no right to lecture me on my rights.  
  
"I remember, Angel. I remember everything. You had no right to try and take that from me. You had no right to walk out on me, on us. Not once, but twice. So you'll excuse me if I was just a little bit worried about how you'd react to a baby. Hell, for all I know, you wouldn't have believed me if I told you it was yours." The last comment was meant to be a low blow. Buffy cursed herself for her immaturity. Not even twenty minutes with him and she felt like a teenager over again, lashing out at him. Trying to hurt him like he hurt her.  
  
"Well," Angel said after a minute, " news of your, shall we call them exploits, had reached Los Angeles. There was room for doubt. She could have been anyone's, couldn't she?"  
  
Buffy's breath caught in her chest, she hadn't counted on him fighting back. The hand without the IV connected with his jaw before she could stop it. Fortunately, he injuries had left her weak and she wasn't much of a threat to his health. Their eyes caught and held. "Sorry, reflexes," she apologized when the silence got to be too much, sounding like one of her daughters when they didn't mean the apology.  
  
He continued to stare at her, not saying anything. Finally, he stood and turned to leave. "I was going to tell you about her." Her voice stopped him mid-stride, but he didn't turn around. She told his back, "That weekend that Faith was trying to kill you. When you were trying to help her.  
  
"I had just found out I was pregnant. It was really a miracle that the baby had survived everything I had just gone through. Or rather that my body had just gone through. I had just remembered that day with you when you called Giles. Willow pointed out that I could kill two birds with one stone, figuratively speaking of course. So, I admit, I was a little angry at you to begin with, but seeing you holding Faith-- while I had just spent the earlier part of the evening throwing up everything I'd ever eaten in my life-- I reacted badly. Although..." Buffy trailed off, willing Angel to turn around. He didn't so she continued, picking up a different strand of thought. "Then you and I got in that tremendous fight..." her breath hitched a little. "You told me to leave, so -- I left. Without telling you."  
  
Angel winced as he remembered that night. Remembered hitting her.  
  
Buffy guessed the source of his silence accurately. "You hit my face, not my stomach. Besides as you so succinctly put back then, I hit you first."  
  
When he still refused to speak, or turn around, Buffy blew out an exasperated breath. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Angel. that was eleven years ago. Enough is enough. I got over it, you really should too. How many years have you been human now? Quit with the moping. You have a beautiful daughter out there who has always known about you. Go home, take a nap, and take her to the beach and get to know her," she instructed his back. He didn't give any indication that he was interested or that he was even listening. In fact, she thought he had the distinct attitude of a man who was just indulging her. "Or, you know what, don't. Leave if you want to leave. I'm so tired. And I'm so tired of this. I'm thirty-one years old, a single mother of three, and I don't need this added stress," her rant winding down, Buffy lapsed into silence.  
  
He waited a beat to see if she was going to continue. When nothing lese was forthcoming, he stepped through the door. "Coward," he heard her mumble, but he ignored it, and continued down the hallway, intent on collecting his friends and leaving Sunnydale for good. When he reached the waiting area, he noticed that the others had used the time to freshen up. Tara and Riley had returned, bringing fresh clothes and Cinda and Gilly back with them. The Los Angeles contingent, although wearing the same clothes, were more pulled together. Cordelia's natural vanity never allowed her to look rumpled for too long. But what caught his attention was Chloe. Despite her lack of sleep, she was performing for Giles and Dawn. Her body moved gracefully through a series of ballet steps. As she turned, her long, brown ponytail followed her in a stream. She looked like her mother did when she used to fight. They used the same graceful, fluid movements. He stood, transfixed by the little girl dancing through the waiting room, who was obviously trying to cheer up the tired crowd. She paused in the middle of an arabesque when she spotted him and smiled. Angel felt his heart skip a beat. She had her mother's smile, the one he could never resist.  
  
With a sigh that was half frustration, half resignation, he turned around and walked back to Buffy's room. At the door, he hesitated, unsure of what he was going to say or ask for, unsure of what he wanted. As it turned out, however, he didn't need to worry about that. Buffy, who was watching the window and didn't turn her head to acknowledge his approach said, "You can stay at my house. Ask Giles or Willow for directions. My room's probably the most comfortable. Chloe know how to get to he beach. I'm sure Dawn or somebody else will watch Cinda or Gilly."  
  
"Pretty sure of yourself," Angel remarked, still hovering by the doorway. "How did you know what I wanted?"  
  
Buffy turned to face him and narrowed her eyes a little. "She smiled at you, didn't she?" At his nod, a wide grin split her face. "Sucker," she said without malice. "No guy seems to be immune to that smile. You should see how much Xander lets her get away with. It's going to be hell when she starts to date."  
  
At Angel's pained expression, her grin grew wider. She laughed out loud when she heard him mumble, "Wonder where she gets it from," as he walked away.  
  
"Chloe Aisling, hurry up. Angel will be here any minute," Buffy shouted up the stairs. "Or forty-five minutes," she muttered to herself. Trying to get her daughter ready for a weekend with Angel was almost as difficult as keeping the world from ending. Danni and Chloe had been locked in Chloe's room for hours trying to pick out clothes. Up until this weekend, Angel had been visiting Chloe in Sunnydale. Although the visits had been awkward at best, Buffy and Angel barely spoke to each other, he stayed at the hotel, and always brought Kate with him, it was better than Chloe going away for the weekend. But the summer ballet sessions were over and there were still two weeks before school, Buffy had run out of excuses to keep her daughter close. She just wished that it wasn't Chloe's birthday weekend. They had always made a big deal about her birthday, about all the children's birthdays, and now her baby was going away. Buffy hated it. It didn't help that her other children were behaving like monsters. She was almost tempted to ask Willow to check for demonic possession as Gilly crashed into her mother's legs. Willow shot her a sympathetic glance while intercepting her son before he could imitate Gilly.  
  
Buffy blew her hair out her face and hauled Gilly up onto her hip. Gilly immediately started giggling and patting Buffy's face. Pushing her daughter's hands down, she turned to Willow. "Please tell me it's naptime. Please let it be naptime."  
  
"Sorry," Willow said with a smile. "It's not even l-u-n-c-h time."  
  
"I'm not going to make it," Buffy moaned. She checked her watch. "And Cinda should be back from the library any minute now."  
  
"Xander loves taking her to story time." Willow shifted Robbie as she bent to pick up toys.  
  
"Leave them, Will. It hardly makes a difference. I have never been so grateful to a public library before today." Buffy placed a hand over her heart. "I swear that after today, I will never say another word about Giles' incredibly dull choice of former employment," she paused, wrinkling her nose. "Did that make sense?"  
  
"You're not going to make fun of librarians again," Willow translated, abandoning her task of cleaning the room and choosing to sit instead.  
  
"Right," Buffy nodded. Carefully stepping over the toys scattered around the family room, Buffy made her way over to the couch. Sighing, she put her daughter down and watched her toddle off. Leaning back, she surveyed the room. Despite the current mess of toys covering the hardwood floors and rug, Buffy loved this house. The walls were painted a warm pale yellow and the navy couch and plaid armchairs arranged around the fireplace and television gave the room a nice, cozy feeling. She had tried to carry that feeling throughout the house and had succeeded, even if she did say so herself. But at that moment, she felt like the cheery walls were slowly trapping her inside them and her children were her jailors. She sighed again when she spied Gilly trying to eat a plastic ring.  
  
Willow shifted her gaze from her son to Buffy. "Tell you what," she said. "I'm giving you a get out of jail free card."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Go on, get out. Go for a run. Go find something evil to hit. I give you leave to go," Willow clarified. She knew she had accurately guessed the source of her friend's restlessness when she saw relief wash over features. Willow smiled at her expression. She couldn't understand how Buffy could have energy after running herd on three active children, working full time, and slaying at night. But as she watched Buffy dash up the steps to change, she was again reminded why she was the sidekick and not the slayer. Brushing a strand of red hair away from her face, she sighed and removed the legos from her son's mouth.  
  
Buffy tried to feel guilty about leaving Willow with the children. Tried, but didn't quite succeed. The run felt too good for guilt. Despite the fact that her injuries had long since healed and the scars were fading already, Giles had been reluctant to start training her again. Buffy could feel her muscles relax as she put them through a much needed work out.  
  
Her run took her all through Sunnydale. It felt good to run for the sake of running and not because she was chasing or being chased by a demon. For some people, the streets and landmarks in Sunnydale were simply that, streets and landmarks. For Buffy and the Scooby Gang, the streets mapped out major events in their lives. They were places where they fought and changed the courses of their lives. At one time in her life, Buffy had been certain that she had wanted nothing more than to flee this town. When she had had Chloe, she had been determined to take her daughter away. But that was before Dawn, before her mother had died, and before Glory. Buffy was tied to the town by blood now.  
  
She jogged past main street, bypassing it for a less crowded area that took her past the campus. Buffy had spent years perfecting this course. She managed to avoid all the sights that signified moments of tremendous pain in her life. No Revello Drive, no high school ruins, no alleys behind the Bronze. Just the simple freedom of running and the blue skies and palm trees. Buffy sighed contentedly at the feel of the sun against her face and shoulders. Sunnydale might be a magnet for all things evil, but it had beautiful weather.  
  
A quick glance at her watch told her that she better step up her pace if she wanted to shower before Angel arrived. At that, the contentment she felt from her run disappeared and she turned down the road that would take her home.  
  
"Angel, man, do you think there will ever come a time when you can make this trip by yourself? I had a to cancel a date with a major hottie to come along. I'm not saying you're not a handsome man, but you just ain't my type," Gunn said, tapping his fingers against the convertible's door.  
  
Angel spared a glance at the man sitting next to him. They were still blocks from Buffy's house and he could already feel his stomach tightening at the thought. He couldn't tell if was more nervous about having Chloe stay with him for the entire weekend or about getting her out of the house without having to spend too much time with her mother. Angel had been certain that the resentment would have faded as he got to know his daughter, but he was surprised to find that it still lingered, hovering around the corners of his mind whenever he saw Buffy with her children. It grew when Buffy had agreed with her daughter's decision to call him by his first name, increased when she only referred to him by that around the house. She had explained that she didn't want to confuse her other daughters, didn't want them to think that Angel was their father too. Angel tried, but he couldn't help feeling cheated and he couldn't prevent himself from blaming Buffy for that feeling.  
  
Gunn suddenly stopped his tapping and sat up straight as he spotted the back of a blonde woman jogging in front of them. Or to put it more accurately, he noticed her back side. The woman was tiny, her small frame accentuated by the black spandex running shorts and bra that she was wearing. Her blond ponytail bounced rhythmically in time to her steps. "Yo, man, check her out," Gunn nudged Angel. "I think I'm in love."  
  
Angel tore himself away from his thoughts and grinned at Gunn. "What happened to the major hottie in L.A?"  
  
"Who?" Gunn asked innocently. "Man, are you looking at this chick?"  
  
Angel followed Gunn's pointing finger only to be confronted with the object of his earlier thoughts. He waited a beat before he could trust himself to speak, then said, "That's Buffy."  
  
"That's Buffy? As in mother of your child? Damn, they sure didn't make mothers like that when I was a kid," Gunn whistled appreciatively.  
  
Buffy heard the whistle and turned around, prepared to give the whistler hell, when she saw Angel pull up next to her. "Angel?" She checked her watch, tapping the face before holding it up to her ear. "Did my watch stop? I thought I was making better time than that."  
  
"I'm early. This is Gunn, Gunn this is Buffy." He indicated with his thumb by way of introduction. He tried to concentrated on the steering wheel instead of her outfit. Or the desire to suddenly hurt Gunn.  
  
"I'd shake your hand," Buffy said to Gunn, "but I'm a little gross and sweaty."  
  
"What's sweat between friends?" he responded and offered her his hand.  
  
Buffy grinned and shook it. Her grin widened with she had to tug her hand free. It had been a while since a man had been so blatant in his interest.  
  
Angel tried to repress the irritation that he felt watching then flirt. He nearly sighed with relief when he saw her step back from the car. "Okay," she said, "I'll meet you back that the house. Oh, Angel, don't go before I give you the present I got for Cordelia and the baby."  
  
"Fine," muttered before pressing the gas pedal, leaving a rather surprised Buffy in the rearview mirror. He pulled into her driveway and parked the car. He got out slowly, trying to tamp down his annoyance at Buffy before he saw her again. It didn't help that he could see her slowly jogging down the street. Or that he could see cars with male drivers slow down to get a better look at her. Or that Gunn was practically breaking his neck to watch her. Angel tried to put it all into perspective before seeing his daughter. He had Kate, or he used to have Kate anyway. Kate had walked out on him. Never sure of herself and her place in his life, she couldn't handle the thought of having to compete with another woman. Or the ghost of an old relationship. Their relationship had been severely strained before the sudden appearance of Chloe in his life. It simply couldn't survive the new complications.  
  
As he watched Buffy run down the street, he could admit, privately, that she looked almost exactly the same as she did when he first met her. Her hair was a dark blonde, long and straight. Despite having three children, she was still small, which he attributed to slaying and her natural athleticism. Her features were slightly more refined, her eyes ages older, but it was still the same face he had fallen in love with years ago.  
  
Buffy was trying to slow her natural gait in order to giver herself time to control her temper. It wasn't helping. She needed to beat something or someone up. Spying the parked car in driveway she knew she had a candidate in mind. Almost absently, she wondered if he had retained his strength. Her patience with him was wearing thin. With she each step, she reminded herself that he had a right to be angry. His emotions were justified. But everyone had his or her limits and there was only so much more that Buffy could take.  
  
She sighed as she reached her driveway. Angel's expressions hadn't gotten an friendlier. This was not going to be a pleasant afternoon. "You could have gone in," she panted as she stopped. "Willow's watching the kids."  
  
"Hi, honey, I'm home," she called as she ushered Gunn and Angel inside. When nothing but silence greeted her, she stepped farther into the room. "Will?" she shouted before she spotted the note taped to the banister. Reading it, she passed it silently to Angel. Willow had taken the kids to meet Xander. "This is what you get for coming early," she said with a sheepish smile.  
  
Although Angel didn't say anything, Buffy could feel the annoyance crackle through the air like electricity. Choosing to ignore it, she led the two men into the kitchen for drinks. "Sorry about the chaos," she apologized. "I've been cooking for Chlo's party on my days off. Doesn't leave much time for cleaning." The green tiled counters were littered with appliances and pans. A few of Gillian's and Cinda's toys decorated the floor. As Angel lowered himself into a chair, his eyes scanned the rest of the room. The refrigerator was papered with drawings from various hands. It was also a giant photo album, one side covered in pictures of Buffy and her children, her friends and family, and quite a few people he didn't recognize.  
  
Buffy handed the men glasses of iced tea, which they accepted with puzzled expressions. They looked at each other, trying to recall if they had asked for the drinks. Gunn shook his head, Angel shrugged. She was about to excuse herself so that she could shower when the phone rang. "Hello? Hi, Giles. Yes, I found it. What? Oh, no, he's here already." Buffy walked towards the windows, twisting her hair up off of her neck.  
  
"Who's Giles?" Gunn whispered as he watched Buffy pace.  
  
"Long story," Angel whispered back, wishing that Gunn wasn't one of his friends so that he could punch him for the way he was looking at Buffy. He tapped his fingers against the table, his other hand gripping his glass tightly. Why couldn't she have worn sweats to work out? She used to wear them when she was slaying.  
  
"Oh! Giles, before you go." Buffy's exclamation startled Angel and he sloshed iced tea over the rim of his glass. He looked up to see Gunn mouth "smooth" at him. "Do you think we could start training again? I know, but ... I know, but I'm more than ready. Yes. Yes. Okay? Great, thanks, I'll see you tonight. Bye."  
  
"Are you sure you should be training so soon?" Angel asked when she had replaced the receiver in its cradle.  
  
"I'm fine." Buff blew a strand of hair off her face. "You sound like Giles," she said accusingly.  
  
"You nearly died," Angel pointed out.  
  
"It's not like I haven't done it before."  
  
Angel blanched and looked down at his iced tea. He mumbled something into the glass, but even Buffy's accelerated hearing couldn't catch it. "Ergh." She threw her hands up in the air. "I'm going to shower. You two can entertain yourselves." She stomped up the back staircase.  
  
"Got a temper," Gunn observed.  
  
"You have no idea."  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Buffy was drying her hair when she heard the front door slam. Chloe's voice sang out as she announced her presence, followed closely by her little sisters' heavy stomps. There were only three of them, she mused. How could three tiny girls be so very noisy?  
  
Putting the hair dryer down, Buffy descended the steps to see Chloe hugging her father. Her heart jumped a little when she saw how much they resembled each other. She closed her eyes briefly, resisting the urge to snatch her daughter back. She was glad, really glad, that Chloe was getting the chance to know Angel. Fixing a smile on her face, she said, "Hey, look who's back!"  
  
Her daughters looked up at the sound of her voice and rushed towards her. Gilly latched onto her mother's leg and Chloe extracted herself Angel's arm to give her mother a quick kiss before going upstairs to get her bag.  
  
"Xand, thanks for taking care of Cinda today," Buffy said while trying to remove her daughter from her leg.  
  
"Hey, no problemo, Buffster. We love story time, don't we kiddo?" Xander tugged one of Cinda's pigtails and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.  
  
"Okay, who wants lunch?" Willow asked. The children all dashed into kitchen and seated themselves at the table. Or tried to. "Guess that answers my question. Angel, it was nice seeing you again. You too Gunn. C'mon, Uncle Xander, you're going to help me make sandwiches." Willow grabbed Xander's sleeve and pulled him with her despite his protests.  
  
"So," Buffy began, then trailed off. She shifted uneasily.  
  
"So," the men echoed.  
  
"It was nice meeting you, Gunn."  
  
"You too. You too."  
  
"Um, you'll be back in time for the party on Sunday, right? You can stay here if it gets too late. Gunn, you're coming too, right?"  
  
Angel and Gunn wore identical expressions of confusion. "We're invited?"  
  
"Of course, it's Chloe's birthday, you have to come." Now it was Buffy's turn to look shocked. "I just assumed... Well, you don't have to come, but Chloe was counting on it. Kate's invited too, of course. So are Cordelia and Wesley. I already spoke to him, actually." Buffy stopped suddenly and smacked herself on the forehead. Before either man could ask her what was wrong, she turned and ran up the steps.  
  
Gunn looked at Angel, who only shrugged.  
  
"Ok, all ready already." Chloe thundered down the steps, her brown ponytail streaming behind her. She tossed her sports bag at Angel's feet and jumped down the last few steps. "Where's Mom?"  
  
"Here I am," Buffy said. She carried a box wrapped in pale blue paper. "Baby's gift," she explained, shoving the box into Angel's stomach  
  
"You all set, baby? You don't want to stay for lunch?"  
  
"We have to get on the road."  
  
"Oh, okay." Buffy could feel the tears rising in a lump in the back of her throat. She swallowed convulsively. Tugging gently on Chloe's ponytail, she said, "You behave for your father and I'll see you Sunday, alright?" She sleeked her hand down the tail and pulled the girl into a tight embrace.  
  
"I bv prmc." Chloe's voice was muffled by her mother's shoulder. She pulled away from her mother and bounded out the door after her father.  
  
"Love you, baby," Buffy called from the steps. "Be good and have fun."  
  
Chloe waved from her seat in the convertible. "Love you too. Bye."  
  
As Angel backed out of the driveway, he saw Buffy standing at the top of the steps. Her arms were crossed tightly in front of her and she was cupping her elbows. Her lips quirked in a watery attempt at a grin when Chloe turned to keep waving. She turned slowly and walked back into the house. Right before he turned the corner, Angel saw the screen door slam shut after her. 


	3. Chapter 3

The videotape and clock were in collusion. They both mocked him with their presence. Tapping his pencil against the desk for the better part of the hour, Angel stared at the tape, unsure of whether he should play it. It had been in his possession for over two weeks now, but he still had yet to view its contents. He'd been taken off guard at the end of Chloe's party when Buffy had handed him the tape.  
  
"Think of it as a party favor," she'd said. Her shoulders raised slightly and fell. "Only no one else gets one." She held out the box. "Take your time with it."  
  
"What's on it?" he had asked as he accepted the tape. His eyebrows had furrowed as he stared at it.  
  
Buffy had laughed at his look. "It's a surprise. A good one. I think. I guess." Shaking her head, she'd backed away from him. "Trust me."  
  
He supposed that that was a part of his problem. He didn't distrust her, but he didn't know her anymore. Because he'd been so miserably uncomfortable at the party, he'd ignored the tape for weeks, certain that it would increase his misery.  
  
The worst part was the guilt. He'd been an outsider at his own daughter's party. Despite the weeks he had spent with her, she was still a stranger to him. He didn't know the birthday traditions. A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over him as he remembered his near intervention when Xander threw Chloe into the pool.  
  
"Where's the birthday girl?" Xander had called, scanning Buffy's backyard for the little girl. Although it was getting dark, Buffy's yard was lit with lanterns and fairy lights. Dancing lights ringed the fence; Willow had explained that they were part of a protection spell that she and Tara had invoked to keep the yard safe. Catching sight of Chloe cowering behind Riley, Xander shouted, "Ah-ha! Don't think you can hide, little girl."  
  
At Chloe's shriek, Angel's gaze shot up. He watched as Riley stepped away from her to reveal her spot to Xander. Chloe shrieked again as Xander shot forward, arms outstretched to catch her. She made half-hearted attempts to dodge him. She dashed over to Buffy, who only stepped away, smiling and saying, "Don't expect me to help." Angel stood up to defend his daughter. His breathing changed and his hand curled into a fist when he saw that no one else would help her. He stepped forward. Realizing his intent, Cordelia placed a hand on his arm. "Don't," she whispered.  
  
Seeing his anger, Willow sidled over to him. "Ah," she said softly, as if remarking on something that he already knew, "the annual birthday dunking. What party would be complete without one." What Cordelia's command could not do, Willow's explanation accomplished. Angel retreated to the picnic table and watched from the gloom as a laughing Chloe flew into the water of Buffy's pool.  
  
That night he'd come to the simple conclusion that he didn't know his daughter. He could spend the next eleven years with her and he'd never completely know her. As the pencil broke against the edge of the desk, Angel heaved a sigh. Reluctantly, he walked over to VCR and slipped the tape in. As the television whirred to life, he saw a picture of Buffy surrounded by clouds of wrapping paper and ribbons. When Joyce placed a bow on Buffy's head, Angel realized with a jolt that he was watching her baby shower. A voice, he thought it was Willow's, urged Buffy to stand up so that she could show off her stomach. Buffy laughingly replied that she needed a wide angle lens as she maneuvered herself to her feet. Standing sideways to the camera, Buffy wrapped her hands under stomach so that her dress stretched across her abdomen. She laughed again when Willow snuck up behind her and tried, unsuccessfully, to hug her stomach.  
  
The scene changed abruptly and Angel suddenly found himself watching Buffy huff and puff her way through labor. Angel noted that her hands were clenched so tight that she had bent the bars on the side of the bed. Willow and Joyce flanked her sides while Xander manned the camera. Buffy shot Xander a look that would have sent lesser men running, but Xander merely snorted when Buffy said, "You'd better be focusing on my face."  
  
The camera suddenly whipped around and Angel was confronted with an unfamiliar face. "You are only focusing on her face."  
  
"Ahn, would you relax?" Xander's voice said. The camera stopped then turned back on to show Buffy holding a tiny, wet baby. She kissed the fuzzy head and turned to face the camera.  
  
"Say hi," she whispered. "World, meet Chloe Aisling Summers." She held up a tiny hand and waved it at the lens. Buffy's hair was plastered to her head and her eyes had rings beneath them. She'd looked healthier after she defeated the mayor at graduation, but she'd never looked happier.  
  
The tape ran for hours. Angel spend the night huddled in front of the television set, watching scenes from his daughter's light move across the screen. He saw her first dance recital, her kindergarten graduation. He saw her in her dress for Buffy's wedding (he wasn't too fond of that scene).  
  
When the tape ran out, he had viewed six years of Chloe's life. And it still wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted to see everything he had missed. And although he couldn't quite find it in him to forgive Buffy for keeping those years from him, he was incredibly grateful to her for giving some of them back. Checking his watch, he saw that it was just after midnight. Scrubbing his face roughly, he wondered if it was too late to call Buffy. It probably was, he decided as he picked up the phone and dialed her number.  
  
"'Lo?" a voice mumbled. When it added, "The world better be ending," he concluded that it was definitely too late to call.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Angel? Oh, God, is the world ending? I swear, I only meant that as a joke. Okay, I'm up now." Angel heard the sheets rustle as Buffy moved in bed. He tried not wonder what she wearing, reminding himself that he didn't care.  
  
"I woke you. I'm sorry," he apologized.  
  
"The world's not ending?"  
  
"No," he chuckled at her confusion. "I called to--"  
  
"Oh, God, it's not the baby right? Cordelia's okay? Are you okay? You're not, are you?" Buffy interrupted his explanation.  
  
"No," Angel tried to assuage her panic. "Everyone is fine. I'm fine... Actually, I just called because... I watched the video you gave me."  
  
"Oh. Oh, Angel." Buffy's voice softened immediately. "Are you... are you..." her voice trailed off.  
  
"I'm okay," he answered the question she couldn't ask. "I wanted to..." It was a great conversation, he decided. Neither one of them could complete a sentence. He definitely should have waited until tomorrow to call, when he had time to think about what he was going to say. So many emotions were swirling inside of him, he couldn't focus on just one.  
  
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" Buffy whispered over the phone lines.  
  
"Yes," he choked out. "She was beautiful."  
  
"Angel?" she asked. "Did you want - do you want to talk or something?"  
  
"No," he responded quickly. "No, I'm sorry for calling you this late, Buffy."  
  
"It's okay. Good-night, Angel."  
  
"Good night, Buffy." Angel heard the click as Buffy hung up. Angel softly replaced the receiver in the cradle. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his legs at the ankle and stared at the blank screen of the television set. The clock on his wall marked the minutes as the night slipped quietly by.  
  
"Coming," Buffy shouted to the front door. Scooping Gilly up with one arm, Buffy navigated her way through the maze of toys. "Coming!" she called as the doorbell rang again. Flinging the door open, she nearly dropped her daughter when she saw Angel standing on the other side. He smiled as he reached out to take Gilly from Buffy.  
  
"I'm sorry," she splutter, placing a hand over her heart. "I'm just... I'm not used to seeing you in colors," she tried to recover from the shock of seeing him on her front step.  
  
"May I come in?" Angel asked, raising his eyebrow.  
  
"Oh, of course. Not like you need the invite these days." Buffy gestured him inside, taking her daughter back as he passed by her. "Don't take this wrong or anything, but what are you doing here, Angel? You do know that Chlo's still in school right?"  
  
Because he was trying to figure out exactly what he was doing here, Angel didn't respond right away. Instead, he followed Buffy back into the kitchen, contemplating the back of her legs. She never wore shorts this much when she was in high school, he mused. Seeing her turn around with a puzzled expression marring her face, he gave himself a mental shake. "What are doing here?" he asked instead of answering her question.  
  
"I live here?" Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Settling Gilly on the floor, Buffy reached out to test Angel's forehead for a fever. "You don't feel warm," she murmured, testing her wrist against his face. "Do you want some water or something?"  
  
Before she could move to the sink, Angel grabbed her by the wrist. "No, Buffy, I'm fine. I just meant, why aren't you at work?"  
  
"Today's my day off. I always have three day weekends. Angel, you know this." She tapped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. Instead of answering, he roamed around the kitchen,. The green tiled counters were clean and decorated with cookie and flour jars. The oak table, on the other hand, was covered in newspaper and what appeared to be green paint. Open jars littered the surface and there a row of drying paintings. A quick glance at them left him without words to describe them. Abstract was the most diplomatic. From the matching paint on Gilly's fingers, he guessed that she was the artist. At the moment, Gilly was happily slamming a doll against the chair that Buffy occupied. The woman was waiting not so patiently for an answer.  
  
"Angel," she prodded.  
  
"I... I forgot, I guess."  
  
"Okay," Buffy stretched the word into four syllables.  
  
He shrugged again. "I guess.... I don't really know why I'm here."  
  
Buffy stood up and pulled him into a chair. Resting her cheek against his forehead, she checked for a fever again. Angel closed his briefly as he felt her skin lay against his. They hadn't been in such close contact since she had been in the hospital. Her perfume had matured he noticed. She no longer smelled like lilac, it was older, more refined. Sexier, he admitted. He began to wish fervently that she would move. That her tank top didn't dip so low in the front.  
  
"No, you're definitely not warm," she repeated her earlier comment. "Angel, are you okay?" She sat down next to him and shoved her chair back from the table so that she could look him in the eyes.  
  
"I don't know," he said at last. He slumped against the back of the chair. Buffy remained silent, waiting for him to continue.  
  
"I missed a lot," he said at length.  
  
"You missed a lot," she echoed, her voice rising slightly at the end to give the sentence a questioning tone.  
  
He nodded, glad that she understood. "Of Chloe's life," he clarified.  
  
"Oh. Oh."  
  
"I didn't realize how much until I saw the video."  
  
"I was wondering when you'd bring that up again." Buffy sat up straighter in her chair.  
  
"It's been on my mind for a while." Angel nodded again. "I really missed a lot. Maybe- maybe- maybe I missed too much."  
  
Buffy stood abruptly, picked up Gillian and walked out of the room without saying anything. Angel watched, puzzled, but remained seated. She came back a few minutes later carrying a baby monitor. Flicking it on, she placed it on the counter before turning to face him with her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't speak right away. It reminded him of the times when they used to fight when she was in high school and he braced himself.  
  
"Where did you take Gillian?" he asked, hoping to delay the inevitable.  
  
"I put her down for her nap."  
  
Sensing that he wasn't going to get any more information, he rose also. The kitchen grew tense as the stared at each other across the table. Buffy drew a deep, shuddering breath before speaking in the low voice that she used to use when she needed control. "What do you mean maybe too much?"  
  
"I just meant, maybe I missed too much time." Angel regretted the words as they were out of his mouth. He knew Buffy would misinterpret them, but he also remembered how fast time passed when there was a child around.  
  
Buffy advanced slowly. "You are not doing this to her. You are not going to hurt her."  
  
"I wasn't going to. I didn't mean-"  
  
"What did you mean, Angel?"  
  
"I don't know how to explain it."  
  
"You better figure out a way. Because if you think that I'm going to let you walk out on her-"  
  
"I'm not going to walk out on her," Angel ground the words out between his teeth.  
  
"Then what are you doing?" she asked, throwing her hands up. "Do you want to know about her life? Is that why you're here? Do you want a play by play, more videos? What?"  
  
"I don't know," he cried. He fell back into the chair, elbows resting on knees, head in his hands. "I don't know what I'm doing here." He looked up and his brown eyes were watery.  
  
There was a time when she would have rushed to his side. When she could have slipped her arms around him and held, but that time had long since passed. That girl had disappeared out of necessity and the woman who had replaced her worried more about her daughter's emotions than those of the man before her. So she remained on the other side of the table, arms akimbo and ready to fight.  
  
"I didn't realize how much time I had missed," he mumbled. His voice was muffled by his hands.  
  
Buffy dropped her hands to her side. "What do you want me to do? Why are you here?" she repeated. "Because I will not let you walk out on her."  
  
"I don't want to leave her." He whispered his next words so softly Buffy had to strain to catch them. "I want those years back. You shouldn't have kept them from me."  
  
Buffy's head snapped up and she shot to her feet again. "I did what I thought was best," she explained, pacing around the kitchen. Her explanation sounded lame even to her own ears.  
  
"You did what you thought was best," he repeated slowly. "Keeping her from her father? Never even letting me know she existed?"  
  
She stopped her pacing. "I..."  
  
"What? You don't have an excuse? No explanation?"  
  
"No," she said honestly. "I just- I wasn't going to gamble with her heart."  
  
"You think I would have hurt her?" he asked, his tone incredulous.  
  
"No, now. Then, I don't know, but I wasn't going to find out the hard way. Hell, Angel, I was nineteen and despite everything I'd seen and been through, I was incredibly stupid. Maybe my choices weren't good, but it's too late now."  
  
His mouth opened, then shut. There simply wasn't anyway he could respond to that statement. He began to pace around the kitchen, past the cookie jars and the refrigerator, past the sideboard crammed with china. He circled the kitchen table where Buffy remained seated, finally winding up near the sliding glass doors. Turning to face Buffy, he leaned back against the glass.  
  
"I don't know what else you want me to tell you, Angel." Buffy shrugged. "That first year- it was so hard." Sensing she wasn't going to have a sympathetic audience, Buffy forced her eyes to remain dry.  
  
"Really." It was a statement, not a question. Angel raised an eyebrow but his face remained blank. He could remember that year. He'd spent it struggling to adjust to having a family and running a business. He'd spent it trying to readjust to life without her.  
  
"Really," she repeated. "There was all this stuff going on. I was nineteen and a mom. Then the whole Dawn and Glory debacle. My mom died. I died. I-"  
  
"What do you mean, you died?" Angel interrupted. "When did this happen?"  
  
Buffy started. She hadn't meant to say so much. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, her fingers lingering to play with the ends. "It- I-" she stammered. Pushing her chair back, she walked over to the sink and poured a glass of water.  
  
Well aware that she was stalling, Angel moved closer to the sink. He grabbed her wrist before she could take another drink. "What do you mean?" he ground the words out between clenched teeth.  
  
"I had no choice," she whispered into her glass.  
  
"Very few people do."  
  
"Witty."  
  
"Why wasn't I told?"  
  
"Willow went to tell you. She was going to, but you weren't there. She waited for a while, but no one ever showed."  
  
"When did this happen?"  
  
"A few months after my mom died. This hell god, or whatever she called herself, was trying to kill Dawn." Buffy shuddered as she thought about how close Glory had come to succeeding. Haltingly, she told Angel about her sister and Glory.  
  
"And by then the portal had already opened. So, I jumped. Apparently it worked, cause here we all are and there's no dragon problem," Buffy concluded. She tried to free her wrist from Angel's grip, but he wouldn't release it.  
  
"How are you here?" he asked quietly.  
  
She sighed and leaned against the counter. Her arm, secure in Angel's hand, dangled above the sink. Her memories of those first few months back had faded, as had her memories of heave, but she still disliked this part of the story. "Willow found a spell. A ritual really. And they brought me back."  
  
"I never knew," he said softly, his fingers loosening slightly.  
  
"I told you, Willow went to tell you. I don't know why she didn't go back. I think that they were trying to convince the outside world, read social services and the hellmouth, that I was still alive."  
  
"Social services? For Chloe?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Partially, I guess. But more for Dawnie. They had threatened to send her back to Dad."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me about Chloe after that?"  
  
"I don't know, Angel." Buffy skimmed her foot over the floor. She concentrated on the arc her foot created. "I was so messed up." She shrugged. "You wouldn't have recognized me. I didn't recognize me. And after everything got straightened out... I guess... I guess... I don't know. And then I met Jack." She smiled wistfully. Her fingers automatically went to the third finger of her left hand. She taken her rings off a year ago, but at times like this, she missed heir weight. Their security.  
  
She glanced at the wall clock. "The girls will be home soon. Do you want to stay for dinner?" She crossed to the kitchen table and began to stack Gilly's drying paintings.  
  
It was Angel's turn to study the floor. He looked up to see Buffy waiting for his answer. He tried to remember if there was anything, anything at all, that he had to do or eat for that matter in Los Angeles. "Sure," he replied. 


	4. Chapter 4

Cordelia sighed as she hung up the phone. She hadn't been keeping an accurate tally, but she thought that might have been the hundredth time that she tried to call Buffy. She need to her stop her before she got to L. A. Resting her chin in her hand, she looked up the staircase. Angel hadn't left his room all day. She sighed again, wishing she could make the pain a little less. She'd even left Allan at home with the nanny all week. It was unfair to flaunt her happiness when Angel was so miserable. Shrugging, she picked up the phone and began dialing the now memorized number.  
  
Buffy ducked as the sword glanced off the wall of the warehouse. It had taken months to track down this demon and the warlock working with him. In the end, it had been Amy, who had come out of her magically induced stupor, who helped guide them to veiled warehouse.  
  
Angrily, she swung her axe again. This time it caught, embedding itself in the demon's skull. "That's for ruining my tan line this summer." Buffy turned to face Willow and Tara, who had just finished binding the warlock. As she brushed a sweaty lock of hair from her forehead, she noticed the time. "Crap."  
  
Chloe and Buffy entered the main lobby of the Hyperion Hotel two and half hours after Buffy had defeated the demon. Four hours after Cordelia left her last message.  
  
"Buffy! Chloe! You're here." Cordelia's surprised cry rang out across the lobby. "Why are you here? Didn't you get my messages? Ew, what happened to you?" Cordelia asked as she inspected Buffy.  
  
"The usual. What messages? What happened? Is everyone okay?" Buffy pulled Chloe close, as if she could shield her daughter from Cordelia's answer.  
  
"Is my dad okay?" Chloe asked in a small voice and wrapped her arms around her mother.  
  
"He's fine sweetie. He's just- It's not a good weekend." Cordelia pushed a strand of hair back from her face. Absently, she wondered if she should cut it again. It was getting a little long.  
  
Extracting herself from Chloe, Buffy asked, "Where is he?"  
  
"Upstairs." Still contemplating her hair, Cordelia didn't realize what she had said until she noticed Buffy moving towards the stops. "Wait, you can't--"  
  
"Chlo, wait with Cordelia." Buffy ignored Cordelia's protestations. "What room?"  
  
"Buffy, you-"  
  
"What room?  
  
"Two seventeen." Cordelia shrugged, giving in. Who knew? Maybe Buffy could help.  
  
She didn't knock on the door, knowing that he would just turn her away. The room was dark although the curtains were open. The sun had long set, casting a bluish light over the room. Angel sat in a low arm chair in front of an opened window. His figure silhouetted against the blue square. He didn't look up when Buffy entered, although she knew he heard her. "Angel?" she called softly.  
  
"I want to be alone," he answered.  
  
"What's wrong?" Buffy crossed the room to stand behind the chair. Her hand reached out to touch his shoulder, the pulled back, uncertain.  
  
"Go away, Buffy."  
  
She shook her head. "Not going to happen. What's wrong?" Buffy crouched down in front of him.  
  
"I want to be alone and you're making that impossible?" He raised his eyebrows.  
  
"If you want me to leave, you're going to have to make me." Buffy inspected his face for clues. Then she realized that he hadn't been staring out the window but at a photograph on his lap. "Who's that?" She nodded at the baby in the picture.  
  
Angel shuddered, a tear streaked down his face before he could stop. Buffy's thumb caught and wiped it away, brushing lightly over his cheekbone. "Angel?"  
  
"My son," he whispered.  
  
Shock washed over her body like a wave, leaving her icy in its wake. "Y- you're son?" her voice trembled.  
  
"Today is his birthday." Angel's voice was hollow as his eyes traced the lines of the little boy in the blue sailor suit. "He would have been ten today."  
  
Angel's voice pierced Buffy's shock. "Oh. Oh God. Oh Angel." Her hand flew to her mouth. "I'm-"  
  
"It was a demon hunter. Darla and I tormented him and his family so long ago. They brought him back," he continued, not indicating that he heard her. "He killed him because I killed his children." His gaze remained blank as his thumb rubbed over the little boy's cheek.  
  
Steam from the soup Buffy made wafted across the room. Reluctantly, Angel levered himself out of his chair and walked into the kitchenette. Slightly flushed from the stove, Buffy gave him a half smile and continued to stir the contents of the pot. "Chicken and rice," she said. "You need to eat."  
  
Angel leaned back against the counter. He braced his arms against it. "I'm not really that hungry," he said quietly. Buffy looked up from the soup and gave him a critical glance. His normally spiked hair was tousled and stuck to his head in odd places. His clothes were wrinkled and he had a day's worth of stubble.  
  
"You need to eat," she repeated, voice firm. "You have about eight minutes before the soup is done, why don't you take a shower?" When Angel didn't move, Buffy grasped hi chin and forced him to meet her eyes. "Angel, shower."  
  
"Fine," he said grudgingly. Buffy smiled at his retreating back. When he was in the bathroom, she rested her forearms against the counter and lay her head down. She was exhausted." She didn't think it was possible to feel anything else for the rest of the night. When she had finally emerged from Angel's room, she had been surprised to find the lobby deserted. A quick search had revealed a note from Cordelia telling Buffy that she had taken Chloe for the night and that she had called Xander to make sure it was okay for Gilly and Cinda to stay with him. The post script at the bottom read, "You will tell me how Xander and Tara became roommates." Buffy had smiled, called her daughters, and dragged herself back to Angel's suite to help him through the night.  
  
"Dinner's done," Buffy told Angel when he reappeared.  
  
"Buffy, I told you," he began.  
  
"Sit. Eat. Now." Buffy pointed to the chair. "Chloe's with Cordelia. As a babysitting fee, I have to tell her how Tara and Xander became housemates." Buffy chattered, keeping an eye on Angel to make sure he actually ate.  
  
His spoon paused midway to his mouth. "Housemates?"  
  
"It's a long story. He was engaged to be married, Anya. You met her once, I think. Anyway, she left him for one of the construction workers in his crew. It was kind of ironic, now that I think about it. The ex-demon for scorned women jilts her fiance." Buffy tapped her finger against her lip. "Anyway, Tara and Willow had broken up years before; Tara needed a place to stay and voila."  
  
Interested despite himself, Angel spooned up more soup and asked, "When did Oz come back?"  
  
"About five years ago. He just showed up one day and told Willow he didn't want to wait until they were old and she tripped over him to be together again." She sighed at the memory. Buffy and Dawn had cooed over the wild flower bouquet when Willow and Oz left to talk. As she sighed, her gaze drifted above Angel's head. Three framed black and white photographs were arranged in a column on the wall. "You have my back," she exclaimed.  
  
"What?" Angel looked up in confusion. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"My back. In the pictures. Jack took those. They were the first he sold." She snorted. "Figures you'd be the one to buy them."  
  
"That's you?" Angel asked incredulously, ignoring the niggling voice in his that told him that he already knew that. Black and white or color, he knew Buffy's back. The photographs were studies of light and shadow, more sensual than erotic. In the first one, the woman wore a long black gown that dipped to the small of her back. Her arms were raised above her head and resting against a wall. In the second, she was seated, clad only in a long white corset and skirt, the ribboning on the corset slightly undone. Her head was turned so that only the curve of her cheek was visible. The third one showed lying down, a sheet twisted around her body, her hair tousled.  
  
"Yeah, that's me. He called them foreplay, orgasm, and post coital. Clever titles. Jack had a lot of talent, but never for titles. That's how I met Jack. Chloe was just a toddler and I had taken her to the park. And suddenly there he was."  
  
"Tell me about him?"  
  
"You want me to tell you about Jack?" Buffy asked. Seeing Angel's nod, she continued. "We started talking. Talking lead to the job offer as his model. I needed the money, plus I knew if he tried anything... Well, you know." She grinned sheepishly.  
  
Angel flinched recalling just how well he knew. Buffy could take care of herself.  
  
"So, we became friends, then, I guess you could say he wooed me. Showed up at my door with flowers. Took Chloe to the park." Angel struggled not to snarl at the soft look that settled on Buffy's face as she talked about her husband. "I didn't realize how much I needed something like that, after the previous few years. He didn't care that I was stronger. Never asked for more than I could give."  
  
Buffy level her gaze to meet Angel's eyes. "I could never say 'I love you.' Not the way he wanted to hear it. I did love him, I did. But just not enough, I guess. He died right before I found out that I was pregnant with Gillian."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Car accident. Nothing demony. Just a drunk driver and a wrong turn." She shrugged, her movements stiff and jerky. "Do you want more?" She nodded at his bowl.  
  
With a start, Angel saw that his bowl was empty. "No, thanks."  
  
Buffy stood to clear the table. Her hand brushed over his still damp hair. "Maybe you should get some sleep," she suggested.  
  
"Are you leaving?" He tried to quell the panic.  
  
Buffy looked up at the photographs. "No, I'm not leaving."  
  
Buffy took a deep breath and picked up the receiver to dial. Her hand hesitated for a minute. Before she could rethink her decision, she punched in the first three numbers. And then slammed the phone down. Wiping damp hands on her jeans, she glared at the phone. Why can't you just call for me? Buffy snarled. Modern conveniences, my ass. But this had to be done. She had to call Angel to make arrangements for the holidays. The fear that Angel would want Chloe to spend Christmas in Los Angeles gripped her and left her paralyzed.  
  
She hadn't talked much to Angel since the night he told her about his son. If anything had happened, they were more tense around each other than before that night. The awkwardness of facing each other the next morning rebuilt the walls higher and thicker than before. Other than mumbled 'hellos' and waved good-byes from porches and doors, they'd had no contact with each other at all. Buffy pressed a hand to her stomach before quickly dialing the number for Angel's personal extension.  
  
"Please let it be the answering machine, please let me get the machine," Buffy repeated the mantra over again. She kept her fingers crossed and eyes closed as the phone rang. "Please, please, please. That's three. One more, come on machine."  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hi, Angel. It's me. There's no emergency," Buffy introduced herself using her standard greeting.  
  
"Buffy? What's wr- Oh, you said. No emergency."  
  
She fought the urge to giggle nervously. "I, um, was calling you to discuss the holidays with you."  
  
"Oh." Angel released a breath. "Oh."  
  
She wrapped the phone cord around her fingers. "I know you probably have plans and I wanted to know how you wanted to work things out."  
  
"Actually, I don't."  
  
"Don't what?" Buffy asked. Her brow creased as she puzzled out his answer.  
  
"Don't have plans," he clarified.  
  
"What?" Buffy drew a deep breath. She scooted closer to the edge of the couch. "I mean, why?"  
  
"Cordy and Wes are taking Allan to meet his parents. Wes' parents, I mean. And Gunn and Fred are going to Texas."  
  
Buffy tried to imagine how lonely that would feel. She could see the hotel, dark and cold, except for Angel's room. Where he was sitting at his window, watching the street. Holding a bottle of vodka and singing Christmas carols. She shook her head. "Come here," she said after a minute.  
  
"What?" Buffy heard something crash with a dull thud in the background.  
  
"For Christmas. We have a huge family dinner. And you're coming. Get her early on Christmas Eve. We'll have the small family dinner."  
  
"Buffy, I-"  
  
"Angel, it's stupid to fight me on this. The sooner you realize this the happier we'll all be."  
  
"I- ok."  
  
"Okay?"  
  
"I'll be there."  
  
Buffy smiled into the phone. "Oh, shoot," she exclaimed, smacking herself on the forehead. "Angel?"  
  
"What now?" His voice sounded weary.  
  
"You'd better come a few days earlier. Chloe's ballet, remember?"  
  
"I have it circled on my calendar. Ok, fine."  
  
"Good, I'll see you then."  
  
"Bye, Buffy. Wait... is Chloe around?"  
  
Buffy shook her head even though she knew Angel couldn't see it. "She's at rehearsal.... If you leave now, you can pick her up and have dinner with us."  
  
Angel sighed loudly. "I'm leaving now."  
  
Buffy hung up the phone and let out a shaky breath. She groaned and buried her head in her knees. At the feeling of pressure on her head, she looked up to see Gilly making her teddy bear dance. "What have I done, baby girl?"  
  
Angel held the door open for a beaming Chloe. Behind her, Buffy ushered Cinda through the door; Gilly was fast asleep in her mother's arms. "You were fantastic," Angel praised his daughter. "I had no idea you could dance like that."  
  
Under her stage make-up, Chloe blushed. She had just finished her final night as Clara in The Nutcracker. Roses from her friends and family filled her arms. She turned a quick pirouette, giddy from the combination of the approaching holidays, the success of her performance, and her father's praise. Her smile widened as she thought about how Angel had promised to stay with them until after Christmas. Although she knew it was unlikely, she wanted her father and mother to date. While she had loved Jack, love as if he were her real father and still missed him, especially at the holidays, she was still young enough for love to be a fluid emotion.  
  
"He's right," Buffy kissed her daughter's cheek. "You were beautiful. I've never seen you dance better."  
  
"Mo-om," Chloe drew the word out, "you say that every year."  
  
"And I mean it every year," Buffy responded. Gillian stirred sleepily, settling more comfortably against Buffy's shoulder. "I'm going to put her to bed. But when I get down, I think tonight calls for cookies and ice cream. Why doesn't everyone put on comfortable clothes?" Buffy suggested, eyeing Cinda's dress. She wanted her to wear the dress for Christmas dinner.  
  
"I wanna stay in my pretty dress." Cinda plucked at the hem of the green velvet dress.  
  
"Yeah, Mom, me too." Dawn smirked from behind Angel.  
  
"Funny. Everyone upstairs. Change," Buffy ordered.  
  
"Angel doesn't have to." Cinda stomped her foot, her blonde curls bounced with the motion. Buffy could read the signs of an impending temper tantrum on her daughter's face. She sighed, but before she could figure out how to stave the tantrum, Angel swept the little girl into his arms and swung her over his shoulder. She squealed and kicked her legs delightedly.  
  
"But I'm going to anyway," he said, climbing the stairs. Chloe bounded up behind him, leaving Dawn alone in the foyer. She watched the group's progression quietly. It was interesting, she thought, very interesting.  
  
The kitchen smelled like cookies. Angel, Willow, Oz, Dawn, and Xander had taken the kids iced skating, leaving Buffy time to bake. She dusted her hands off on her jeans and surveyed the room. A thin coating of flour had settled over the counters. Every bowl in her cupboard contained frosting, cookie dough, or ingredients of some kind. Now all she needed were her daughters so they could cut the sugar cookies into shapes. Sighing, she slid some dough into the refrigerator and began to clean up the room.  
  
As she waited for the water to heat up, she started to straighten the rest of the room. In the excitement of their skating trip, the girls left discarded shoes and rejected jackets lying on the chairs. Buffy picked up Angel's coat and noted that the girls weren't the only ones who were excited about the trip. She smiled to herself. Although she would never admit it, she liked having him around. The initial awkwardness disappeared almost immediately after Chloe's ballet performance. Since that night, he'd been taking care of the girls, giving Buffy time to prepare for the holidays.  
  
Turning her attention back to the sink, Buffy loaded pans and baking utensils into it. The knock on the back door startled her. Turning off the water and grabbing a towel, she pushed back a curtain to see who was there. Unsure of whether it was disgust or resignation that motivated her sigh, she pulled the door open. Hand on hip, she quirked an eyebrow. "Spike."  
  
"'Ello, Luv. Aren't you going to invite me in?" The bleach blond grinned at her from the other side of the door.  
  
"No." Buffy shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why are you here?"  
  
"Now where's that holiday spirit of yours, Pet? Can't I just drop by to say hello?"  
  
She leaned against the doorframe. The devil sitting on her shoulder made her run her fingers over the column of her neck. She gave him a half- smile. "Spike, you have never done anything without ulterior motives." She played with the chain at the base of her throat. "Remember that time you were going to kill Drusilla to prove your love for me?"  
  
Spike felt his pulse jump at the sight of her neck. That is, it would have had he had a pulse. If he could only have one taste, just a little nibble right there, he was sure it would satisfy the craving. But he kept his voice level when he spoke. "Those were good time, eh? Heard you had a spot of trouble not that long ago. Wanted to see if you were okay."  
  
Buffy snorted in disgust and stalked away from the door. She threw her hands into the air. "And then what did you think would happen? Were you hoping it'd be like last time? That I'd be so messed up I'd say 'Come on in, Spike' and we'd-" Buffy broke off, realizing what she'd said. Her jaw dropped as he sauntered into the kitchen.  
  
"Don't mind if I do." He grinned. "Nice place you have here, Slayer." He walked around the kitchen, trailing his black fingernails over the counter tops. "Bit of a mess, isn't it?"  
  
"I was- I was making cookies." Buffy found her voice. She gave herself a mental shake and pointed to the door. "Get out. Now."  
  
Oh, come on now, Pet. You don't really mean that." Spike circled back to her like a predator closing in on its prey.  
  
Buffy nodded. "Yes. I do."  
  
"You've played the virgin role. Unconvincingly, I might add. Now let's get to the fun and games." Spike smiled slightly at her. He rested his hands on her hips and pulled her a little closer.  
  
Buffy resisted the urge to tuck in her lips. "Go. Away."  
  
"Now, now, neither of us wants that," he said softly, dipping his head lower.  
  
"I do," Buffy said firmly. She tried to back away, but he followed her until she was pinned against the kitchen island. She wished desperately for a distraction. For the girls to return or the oven timer to go off. Something to break the silence that had descended in the kitchen. 


	5. Chapter 5

When he stepped into the kitchen, the sight that greeted him was not the one he expected to see. Angel had returned to Buffy's to convince her to abandon the cookies and come ice skating with him and the girls. The group felt incomplete without her. He didn't question it, but he couldn't pinpoint the moment when he stopped feeling like an interloper or when he started to care for Cinda and Gillian. It left him feeling pleasantly bemused.  
  
So it was a shock to find Buffy backed into a counter, head turned away, while Spike tried to talk her into sleeping with him. He was going to back out slowly. He was going to walk away. He was going to ignore the whole scene, the voices in his head that were screaming at him to tear Spike away from his girl, and the feeling of betrayal. He was going to, but he didn't.  
  
"What the hell is this?" he growled softly from the doorway.  
  
His voice gave Buffy the impetus she needed to push Spike away. He stumbled back a bit, but regained his balance. He smirked. "Well, well, if it isn't the prodigal son. Returned home, have you? Did you slaughter the fatted calf, Pet?" Spike turned to Buffy. "Or did you just welcome him back with open thighs?"  
  
"What are you doing here, Spike?" Angel advanced slowly.  
  
"Nothing that hasn't been done before, mate."  
  
Buffy blushed. "Get out, Spike."  
  
Angel stood next to Buffy. "You heard her."  
  
Spike threw his hands up in mock defeat. "Relax, mate. I'm going."  
  
Buffy stared at the open door through which Spike disappeared, wondering why there was never an open hellmouth when you needed one. Steadfastly avoiding Angel's eyes, Buffy began to clean. The bowls dropped into the sink with a clatter when Angel grabbed her shoulder. "What was that?"  
  
"That was Spike."  
  
Angel yanked her around to face him. For a moment, Buffy wondered why she let the men in her life get away with that behavior. It would be so easy to punch them and leave them unconscious on the floor. "I know who it was."  
  
"Then why did you ask?" Buffy shook Angel off of her.  
  
"You slept with Spike?" Angel forced himself not to yell. "You had sex with Spike?"  
  
"It's none of your business." She turned her back on him. She willed herself to leave it at that, to be dignified. "Yes."  
  
Angel's fingers balled into a fist. He welcomed the feeling of his nails digging into his palms. "When?"  
  
"Years ago," she muttered, concentrating on the suds in the sink. "After Willow-after Willow brought me back."  
  
"Why Spike?"  
  
"I don't know. I can't explain it." Buffy shrugged uselessly. The shame and degradation that she had felt all those years ago came rushing back. As did the aching emptiness that nothing could ease.  
  
"I never figured you for a groupie." The words left Angel's mouth before he could stop them. He didn't mean it, but he could seem to end the interrogation.  
  
"Groupie?" Buffy nearly screeched. Spike's word echoed in her mind. "Groupie?" She whirled around to face Angel. Her eyes were narrowed to slits and color flagged her cheekbones. Her hair was falling out of its ponytail. Angel stepped back, not out of fear but to prevent himself from touching her.  
  
"You have no idea what I was going through. No idea." Buffy advanced slowly, her eyes trained on his face. His expression was studiously blank. She remembered hoe she used to hate fighting with him because he could always school his emotions. "And Spike loved me," she added, hoping to addle his exterior.  
  
"Loved you?" Angel wanted to laugh. "He loved that you needed him. He's not capable of love. He loved that you were broken. Face it, he used you."  
  
"I wanted to be used. At least I could feel then. He understood me."  
  
"Did you ever talk to your friends? Your sister? Or was fucking Spike the only solution? Did you even think about your daughter?"  
  
"At least he could fuck me." Buffy drew a deep breath. "And don't ever, ever accuse me of neglecting my daughter. I never did. Not ever."  
  
"It doesn't sound like you'd win mother of the year for that year," Angel snarled. A small, remote part of his brain asked him if was looking forward to spending the holidays alone.  
  
"That's it." Angel braced himself for her order, instead she grabbed his wrist. He winced under the pressure of her grip.  
  
Buffy dragged him through the house and up the stairs. She pulled him into her bedroom. Absently, Angel noted that it was the first time he had been in her room. Like much of the house, the walls were painted a pale yellow. Gauzy curtains covered the windows and the canopy of Buffy's large, cherry wood bed. Deep cushioned chairs were arranged before a fireplace. Angel had a minute to observe the room before Buffy tugged him into her closet. Releasing his wrist, she bent down and opened a small door at the back of her closet. Angel saw brightly colored boxes before she stood up with a shoe box. She shoved it into his stomach, forcing him into the bedroom. "That," she said in a shaky voice, "is full of pictures from Chloe's first year. We hid it because we never wanted to see what shape I was in then." She took the box from him and fished out a picture. "Her first birthday. I wasn't there. I was dead."  
  
She pulled out another picture. "Our reunion." She held the photograph up to his face. He pulled away from it, from her, to study it. Buffy's hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. Chloe sat on her mother's lap, staring up at the woman holding her. Buffy's fingers were bruised and bloody. Her eyes were blank. "I had to dig out my out of my coffin."  
  
Buffy handed him photograph after photograph. She was present in every picture, but she never had the smile he remembered. Never looked happy. "Buffy," he said after a while. He reached out, but she shied away. Suddenly unable to remember what started the fight, Angel tried again.  
  
"I wasn't human when I came back."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The ritual was never completed. I came back wrong. I couldn't feel anything." Buffy sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around her legs. "I was just- gone. Whoever was here that year, it wasn't me."  
  
Angel crouched down next to her, but she turned her head away. "At least with Spike, I could feel something."  
  
"He's-"  
  
"Evil. A demon. Despicable. You can use any word you want. I know all this. Now. But then, I didn't care. I let him fuck me, I had sex with him because I couldn't get any lower." She turned back to face him. "Do you know what I mean?"  
  
Angel lowered himself to the floor. "Darla was Connor's mother."  
  
Her eyes grew round. "You had sex? With Darla? Forget the implausibility of a vampire getting pregnant from another vampire, why aren't you evil?"  
  
"Because it never meant anything. I just wanted to feel."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Oh," he concurred.  
  
Buffy held out her hand, palm up. "Truce?"  
  
"Truce," he agreed, taking her hand.  
  
"A fine pair we are." Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder. "At least we didn't resort to violence this time," she half-laughed.  
  
"I thought about it," he admitted, resting his chin on her head.  
  
"Me too." Buffy pulled back and tilted her head up to see his face. Her lips parted slightly when she saw how close his mouth was. Her breath quickened when she saw realization dawn in his eyes. She leaned in slowly, nearly sighing when his mouth met her eyes. Her fingers crept up his neck to play with his hair as he pulled on her ponytail to get a better angle.  
  
They pulled away at the same time, staring at each other. "Well, hmm." Buffy contemplated the new development. "That was... hmm," she trailed off.  
  
"Yeah..." Angel studied the patter on the rug. "So, um... I came to see if you wanted to go ice skating."  
  
"Ice skating?" Buffy repeated blankly. She stood up abruptly, nearly hitting her head on Angel's jaw. "Right. The girls. Ice skating." She glanced down at her flour coated jeans. "Just let me change."  
  
"Okay." Angel remained on the floor.  
  
"Alone."  
  
"Oh right." Angel pushed himself off the floor and walked out of the room. Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, he leaned against the shut door. Inside her room, Buffy brushed her lips with her fingertips before searching for a clean pair of jeans.  
  
Angel wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror. Christmas carols drifted up from downstairs and he could hear Buffy and the girls singing along. If someone had predicted a year ago that he would have been spending this holiday with Buffy, he'd never have believed it. In fact, he'd probably have laughed. And yet, here he was. In Buffy's bathroom while the smell of Christmas cookies filled the house.  
  
He jogged down the stairs, following the noise into the kitchen. Dawn and Chloe were singing off key into a whisk turned microphone while Buffy and Cinda decorated a pan of cooling sugar cookies. Gillian took advantage of her mother's distraction and ran full speed into Angel's legs. "Angle," she grinned up at him.  
  
"Hey there, sunshine." Angel scooped the little girl into his arms. "Morning," he greeted the kitchen.  
  
"Can we have breakfast now?" Dawn asked Buffy.  
  
"How old are you again?" Buffy asked amused.  
  
"You waited for me?"  
  
"Yes, and I'm starving." Chloe stood on tiptoe to give her father a kiss on the cheek. She spun away and grabbed plates.  
  
"Hungry," Cinda echoed. Holding her arms up, she motioned for Angel to bend down for a hug. "Mommy wouldn't let us eat."  
  
"Dictator," Dawn mumbled under her breath as she filled the coffee pot. "Ow," she whined when Buffy hit her lightly on the head.  
  
"Thank you," Angel said.  
  
Buffy smiled. "Not a problem." She washed her hands and began to pour pancake batter into pan, ignoring the tug in her heart at the sight of Angel holding her daughters. "Funny shapes or round?" she asked brightly.  
  
Buffy tucked the receiver in between her chin and shoulder as she climbed up the ladder. She wanted to remove all the garland from her house, but it was taking longer than she had expected. Guess I went a little nuts this year, she thought.  
  
"Buffy, are you there?" Angel asked.  
  
"Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm here. What were you saying?"  
  
"What are you doing?" Angel pondered instead of repeating his original question.  
  
Buffy leaned forward. Her fingers could almost reach the sprig of mistletoe. Judging the ladder's balance, she lifted one foot up and reached a little more. There were only two inches left. "Undecorating," she said with a grunt. She stretched a little more, but the ladder couldn't support the movement and sent her tumbling to the ground. "And, ow, falling off ladders," she moaned from the floor.  
  
"Are you okay?" Angel's voice was slightly panicked.  
  
"Fine." She rubbed the back of her head. "Chloe's visit. That's what you wanted to discuss."  
  
"Why don't we scrap it and I'll drive to Sunnydale and help you with the decorations?" His breathing sounded labored and Buffy eyed the phone suspiciously. "I can help with all the things that need someone tall."  
  
"You better not be laughing."  
  
"No. No laughing here. Honest." He drew deep breaths. "I'll, aherm, I'll see you tonight?"  
  
"If you're laughing you're buying the Chinese food," Buffy warned.  
  
"No, I swear, I'm not. Buffy, I have to go. There's an emergency here that needs my attention."  
  
"Emergency, my ass. You're laughing."  
  
"Ass," Angel's voice was strangled. "Oh, God. Please, stop."  
  
"You're so buying dinner." Buffy pushed the 'end' button then smiled. "Ow," she moaned.  
  
Buffy paused at the threshold to the guest room. Clutching sheets and fresh towels to her chest, she watched Angel pace the confines of the room. Rapping her knuckles against the doorframe, she took a few steps into the room. "I've got towels and sheets." She held up the objects for his inspection. "I wasn't really expecting to see you this weekend."  
  
"Thanks." Angel shoved his hands into his pants pockets and shifted awkwardly on the balls of his feet. "I'm sorry to put you through so much trouble."  
  
Flashing him a smile, she pulled back the covers on the bed. She met his eyes over her shoulder. "It's not a problem. I'm still a little puzzled though. I could have sworn I'd just dropped Chloe off in LA."  
  
He stalked to the window and concentrated on the street below. In his heart of hearts, he knew that the homesick excuse was transparent at best. He'd known that Buffy would see through his and his daughter's carefully constructed lies. Nervously, he ran his fingers through his hair. "She told me about the party," he mumbled quickly under his breath.  
  
Buffy sighed and straightened a corner of the sheet. Casting her eyes towards the ceiling, she muttered to herself. "Lord, save me from pre- teens." Angling her body so that she could make eye contact with Angel, she said, "It doesn't matter. She was supposed to spend the weekend with you."  
  
"The party is a big deal."  
  
"Angel, she's eleven. The new nail polish color is a big deal. I didn't want her to go to the party. She needs to learn she can't always get her way."  
  
He moved to the bed and began to help her. "Buffy, you've had her whole life to spoil her. Let me do this."  
  
"Damn," she breathed. "Lost that argument." She gave him a half smile. "Well, I'm glad you decided to stay anyway. You know where everything is right? I don't think that the soap is too girly. Since you've been staying here, I've remembered that Jack always used to hate my soap."  
  
"Sure." He nodded, wandering to her side of the bed.  
  
"Well then, you're all set." She stood up and turned, only to bump into him. She gripped his forearm for balance. "Sorry," she said, looking up at him.  
  
"It's okay," he said, voice hushed, as he reached out to steady her. He brushed a strand of hair back from her face.  
  
"Oh, God," she whimpered before his mouth came down on hers. Her legs tangled with his as they crashed onto the half made bed. His fingers fumbled with the hem of her t-shirt before inching it up. He nearly sighed when his fingers encountered her skin. Buffy did sigh, her breath a soft gust against his mouth. Her fingers skimmed over his back before resting lightly against his shoulders. Her head tilted back, allowing his lips to brush over her throat.  
  
His arms were tightening around her when she pulled away slightly. "We should lock the door," she panted against his mouth.  
  
"Right." He nodded before assaulting her mouth again. Jumping up, he bounded across the room and locked the door. Buffy giggled and opened her arms as she welcomed him back to the bed. 


	6. Chapter 6

The moon burned orange, a deep pumpkin color that people staring at it and wondering. All over town, cars pulled over to the side of the road to watch it travel across the sky. Mothers began counting things, children, shirts, husbands. Husbands called wives. The switch board at the college lit up with a dizzying speed as parents called to make sure their children were healthy.  
  
Huddled in front of her fireplace, Buffy stared intently at the flames. Willow's hand stroked over her hair. She leaned into her hand, resting her head against Willow's knee. "I'm so stupid, Will," she murmured under her breath.  
  
"No," Willow soothed, "you're not."  
  
"How could I do that? How could we do that?" she moaned.  
  
Willow snorted. "I don't think I should have to explain this to you. You have three children."  
  
Buffy smacked her lightly on the knee. "Funny." She arranged herself more comfortably on the floor. "I love full moon nights."  
  
Willow smiled. When she and Oz had finally reunited, they both agreed that they weren't going to leave anything to chance like they did the last time. For three nights each month, Buffy set up the crib in Gillian's room and fixed up the guest room for Willow. When Jack had been alive, he always made himself scarce on those nights, recognizing the women's need to spend time together. Occasionally, Xander joined them and the three musketeers spent their nights together watching bad television and braiding Willow's hair. "Me too."  
  
"You're awfully quiet," Buffy observed, turning her head so she could study Willow's face.  
  
She blushed, grateful that the fire was the only light in the room. "I've been trying to be good," she confessed.  
  
"It was fantastic."  
  
"Oh good. Cause you know, I didn't want to ask, but-" She broke off and her blush deepened.  
  
"It's okay, Will," Buffy assured her. She relaxed against the chair again only to sit up abruptly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I didn't- Oh God. We didn't use-"  
  
Buffy leaned forward and put her head in her hands. She swallowed heavily a few times. "What if I'm pregnant?" Running her fingers through her hair, she went back to studying the flames. Panic glazed her eyes as she tried to remember the date of her last period.  
  
"I'm sure it'll be okay."  
  
"Oh God, why doesn't this get any easier."  
  
Willow hesitated a moment, then slid off her chair and pulled Buffy into her arms. "Buffy... do you want to get back together with Angel?" She flushed again, mentally cursing her adolescent wording, but she could find no other way to voice the sentiment.  
  
"Yes. No. I don't know. Yes." Buffy rubbed her hand over her forehead. The shadows from the fireplace danced over the back of her hand. "But, really, that's not important now. What if I'm pregnant, Will?"  
  
"You know Angel would support you and the baby."  
  
Buffy shook her head. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to steady her already ragged emotions before she voiced her concerns. She'd never spoken them before. Never had to worry about them until now. They were just niggling voices that tickled the back of her mind and made her worry whether she was normal. "It's not a question of that. I know he would. It's just- I don't want to have any more kids. I've either been pregnant or taking care of a baby for ten years now."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Buffy sighed, "I'm being selfish. I know. I could support another baby. I could even rearrange my schedule. Hell, Jack left me enough money so I wouldn't have to worry about my schedule."  
  
Not knowing what to say, Willow could only nod as she listened to Buffy's debate. It wasn't necessary for her to participate as Buffy weighed the pros and cons on her own. She would never say anything, but she did think Buffy was being selfish. She and Oz had been trying to have another child for a few months and had yet to succeed. They had just started trying, but she would welcome Buffy's dilemma. Her face must have mirrored her thoughts, however, because Buffy stopped her ramblings.  
  
"I'm sorry, Willow, I'm being a bitch."  
  
"No, Buffy, you're not," Willow said automatically.  
  
"I am," she stated firmly. "And I'm sorry. Let's change the subject."  
  
"Alright," Willow agreed, knowing there was no other choice but to follow Buffy's lead. "But, before we do, can I just say one thing?"  
  
"What's that?" Buffy adjusted her position so that her head lay in the crook of Willow's neck and shoulder. Willow laid her cheek on the top of Buffy's head.  
  
"Talk to him, Buffy. You can't not talk to about this," she answered.  
  
Buffy nodded her head. "I know." The women lapsed into silence, watching the patterns cast by the fire wax and wane with the flames.  
  
  
  
Angel watched the second hand tick slowly around the clock. His hand rested lightly on the phone. By his count, it had been there for six hundred seconds. Rationally, he knew he was being ridiculous; he'd lived a long time and he'd known a lot of women. Most of them in the biblical sense. But none of them had ever succeeded in turning him inside out quite like Buffy. His stomach knotted at the thought of calling her; then knotted again as he remembered the last time he had seen her and the way her muscles rippled under his hands.  
  
He hadn't meant to sleep with her. In fact, it came as rather a bit of a shock when it happened. A pleasant even incredible shock, but a surprise nonetheless. Before the weekend had started, he had planned to spend it with his daughter in Los Angeles. During dinner, however, he'd noticed that his normally cheerful daughter was in the early stages of a temper tantrum. Finally, when Angel brought up the subject of her mother's birthday, Chloe told him about the trauma of missing her friend's party. One good pout and Angel was driving to Sunnydale.  
  
He tapped his fingers against the phone. With Buffy's birthday looming on the horizon, he wanted to plan a nice dinner. Although he hadn't discussed the topic with her, he had a sneaking suspicion that she hadn't grown any fonder of birthdays during the years. A nice family dinner would solve his problems.  
  
The thought floored him. His hand dropped limply off the receiver as he tried to pinpoint the moment when he started to think of Buffy's family as his own. It wasn't just Chloe. He had forgotten how much he'd liked Willow; he'd forgotten that he respected Xander's unflagging loyalty to the women. Time had blurred his memories; bitterness had caused to him to forget the rest. For all those years, the only family he had know was his family in Los Angeles. He hadn't thought he needed more than that. Hadn't considered that he might need more. His hand slid onto his lap. He needed to think about this.  
  
  
  
Buffy sighed as she flopped onto the couch. She reached behind her to pull out the building block poking her in her back. The last child had just gone to bed and she closed her eyes as she relished the silence. Angel studied her expression with amusement. The girls had been full of energy all day because of their excitement over their mother's birthday dinner. Although Angel had handled the cooking, Buffy had her hands full keeping the girls occupied. His smile broadened as he remembered that they had also kept Tara busy. While trying to amuse the girls, Tara had accidentally muttered the words to a spell aloud. Cinda had memorized them and spent the afternoon turning things a lovely shade of purple, her favorite color. Because Cinda had refused to undo the spells, even after being scolded by her mother, Tara spent the afternoon de-purpling objects. Angel had a sneaking suspicion that the milk was still lavender hued.  
  
Buffy cracked an eye open. "I guess we should talk," she said at length. Groaning, she maneuvered herself into a sitting position and curled her legs beneath her.  
  
Angel leaned forward to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face. "I guess we should," he agreed.  
  
"Thank you for the dinner." For a brief moment, she allowed herself to lean into his touch.  
  
"You're welcome." His finger grazed over her cheek.  
  
"Last weekend was-" She broke off, unsure how to proceed.  
  
Angel's breath caught in his throat as he waited for her to finish. He was certain the word 'mistake' was going to fly out of her mouth. And while he didn't necessarily disagree with her, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it voiced.  
  
"What was that?" she asked finally.  
  
"Truthfully?" At her nod, he continued, "I don't know either."  
  
She snorted. "Isn't life supposed to get easier as you get older?" She glanced over at him. "Never mind, I just remembered who I was talking to."  
  
He held his hands up, mimicking a suspect cornered by police. "Guilty. Go easy on me, officer."  
  
"When did you turn into a goofball?" Buffy asked, amused by his antics.  
  
"It was a gradual slide into it."  
  
"Mmm. So- what do we do now?"  
  
Angel paused. "I don't know. What do you mean?"  
  
"Was that just a fluke? Are we together? What?" She sighed again. Her emotions were bouncing off each other at a rate that would dizzy a psychiatrist. One part of her screamed at her to tell him she still loved him. While another part of her wanted to panic and run. It would mean forever this time. She was certain of that and not sure if she was ready for it. Yet another part panicked for entirely different reasons. What if he ran? What if he wanted to start fresh? Form his own family rather than join a ready made one? She tried to quiet the voices, but every time she was successful, a new one piped up.  
  
"We could take it one day at a time, see how it goes," Angel suggested. Although he couldn't articulate them, he could read the emotions racing across her face. He hoped that a slower approach would keep her from bolting out the door.  
  
"That could work." She nodded slowly. "We've never tried that before. The thing is I-" I love you. I've never loved anyone else the way I've loved you. "I- There are things you need to know."  
  
"You're not really Buffy but a robot made to look like her."  
  
"No." She smiled. "But remind me to tell you a story some time." She paused, remembering the origins of the Buffybot. "Then again... maybe not." She took a deep breath. "It's about families actually."  
  
"I've been thinking about them myself recently."  
  
Her eyes widened in surprise. "You have? Oh. It's just that... Promise me you won't say anything until I'm done."  
  
"Okay."  
  
She took a deep breath. "Okay, here goes. Angel, you know I love you, right? Well, you know now anyway. The thing is, I like my life. I feel like I've finally reached a point where I have some semblance of control over it. I'm thirty-one, whoops, thirty-two and have three beautiful daughters. And they're enough for me. But I can see where they wouldn't be for you. I don't think I want to have any more children. But if you did, I'd understand."  
  
"Understand? I'm not so sure I do, Buffy." A frown marred his brow.  
  
Buffy yanked at the ends of her hair impatiently. "I'm explaining this badly." She sighed. "It's just that- You deserve to raise you own children. As much as I love mine, I know they couldn't fill that spot for you. It's... it's just not the same. And I'm- I'm not sure," her voice shuddered, "that I can give you what you need. I'm not sure I want to have another child."  
  
"Oh." Angel let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Oh."  
  
"So, I'd understand if you wanted to go."  
  
"Go?" He wondered when he'd be able to form full sentences again.  
  
"If you wanted to leave," she clarified.  
  
"You're willing to give up that easily?"  
  
"No!" Buffy grabbed his hand, stung when he shook off her touch. "No. That's not what I'm saying. I just- I don't want you to have any regrets. To look back in ten years, fifteen years, and realize what you'd given up. To look at me like I was the reason for your unhappiness," she trailed off quietly.  
  
"How thoughtful of you." His voice was cold. Angel laid back against the couch, his hand covering his eyes. He was tired. Preparing dinner had taken a lot of work. Instead of a relaxing evening at the end of it, he was rewarded by being drawn further into the web of angst and drama that had characterized his relationship with Buffy. Cordelia's gleefully gloating voice told him so in his mind.  
  
"I'm sorry," Buffy said, miserably confused. When she had initiated the conversation, she'd been so clear in her mind. No, huddled at the end of the couch and studying Angel's prone and closed form, all her objective points were hopelessly entangled with her emotions. She didn't want him to leave. She didn't want him to stay if she was making him miserable.  
  
"I'm going to bed." Angel hoisted himself off the couch and went upstairs without a backwards glance.  
  
Buffy wrapped her arms around her crooked knees and rested her cheek against them. When she heard the guest room door click quietly shut, she let go of the tears she'd been holding back. "Blew that one, Buffy," she sobbed into her legs.  
  
  
  
Angel tried to punch the fluff back into his pillow. He'd been tossing and turning for the past two hours, watching the glow in the dark numbers on the clock slide into each other. He still wasn't sure what had happened downstairs. If he were being honest with himself, he would admit that he'd been unsure of the events of the past week, past few months. All he did know was that Buffy had yet to come upstairs. When he wasn't watching the clock, he was listening for her soft tread on the steps.  
  
He cursed under his breath. When he ran out of curses in English, he switched to Gaelic, then moved to French, and finally German, finding some comfort in the guttural sounds. He'd sworn to himself when he first started visiting Chloe that he wouldn't get involved with her mother again. It was added pain and heartache that he just didn't need. But he'd been no more able to resist her than he'd been able to stop seeing Chloe. Over the years, he'd convinced himself that the only reason Buffy had had such power of over him was because she was the only person he'd loved and been loved by in return in over two centuries. When he had realized that he was capable of love, he'd thought her power had diminished. Had certainly dimmed enough to allow him to have a not so successful on again, off again relationship with Cordelia. Until Cordelia realized that she loved Wesley, not Angel.  
  
Two and a half hours and still no Buffy. A small, sadistic part of him, left over from the demon and the man he was before the demon, hoped she was miserable. He had had a plan. Up until this night, he'd had a kernel of an idea about how to solve their relationship woes. But Buffy had let her fears ruin it before it had ever had the chance to germinate. He rolled onto his back. Why couldn't he sleep? Oh, he hoped she was suffering. He could almost picture her sitting downstairs, staring at the fireplace. Like she used to do in high school when they were fighting.  
  
The thought of which propelled out of bed and down the stairs. Buffy was still huddled at the end of the couch. Her blonde ponytail falling down around her face in wisps. She was asleep but her nose was red and swollen and he could see tear tracks on her face. Reaching behind her, he turned off the light before gathering her into his arms and picking her up. She stirred as the movement jostled her out of her slumber.  
  
"Angel?"  
  
"Go back to sleep, Buffy."  
  
She shook her head. "No, put me down."  
  
He sighed, then complied with her demand. "Are you bound and determined to make things harder today just because it's your birthday?"  
  
"No," she sniffled. She scrubbed her hands over face, brushing back strands of hair. "I wanted to apologize. It's a little hard to apologize when you're being carried."  
  
Angel's jaw clenched, but he remained silent. She waited for a minute, then sighed herself, and sat down on the bottom step. "I owe you an explanation."  
  
He nudged her over with his foot and sat down next to her. "It's not... It's not having another baby. I mean, that's partly it. I- I don't want to leave another child motherless one day." She raised a hand to forestall his protest. "I've died twice already. It's almost ridiculous." She paused. "I guess technically it's three times. Anyway, it's in the job description."  
  
"Buffy--"  
  
"No, Angel. Let me finish." Buffy pulled her fingers through her hair, loosening more of it from the band. "I'm- I'm being a coward about all of this, really. I think I'm afraid of us. The kid thing, it was an excuse. I grabbed it."  
  
"I know the feeling."  
  
"You do?" She shot him a skeptical glance.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Thank God," she heaved a sigh of relief. She slumped against the steps, her eyes closing. She cracked one open. "Do you think we're always going to suck at this?"  
  
"I don't know." Angel leaned forward, resting his elbows in his knees, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. A debate raged in his head. He wasn't sure if he should tell her his plan.  
  
Buffy studied his back intently, resisting the urge to trace the tattoo with her fingers. "Angel?" she questioned.  
  
"I had something I wanted to ask you tonight."  
  
"Oh?" She felt her breath catch in her chest. "But?"  
  
"But I think I have a compromise instead." He looked over his shoulder.  
  
"Oh?" she echoed.  
  
"About children," he clarified. "Three with an option on a fourth."  
  
"Three?" Buffy's brow furrowed in confusion. "But I just said..."  
  
"I want to adopt the girls," he interrupted.  
  
"Oh." Her eyes filled. "Oh." She waited a minute. "Oh." Her eyes filled. "Oh." She waited a minute as the implications of his statement set in. "Do you mean... But does that mean... do you want..." she spluttered.  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Angel, are you sure? About this? About everything else?"  
  
"Positive."  
  
"Oh, God, I love you." She launched herself at him, knocking him off the steps, and landing on him. Covering his face with kisses, she asked, "What was that about an option on a fourth?"  
  
"Can we discuss this later?"  
  
"Anything you want." She pulled back a little and smiled at him. "So does this mean I'm forgiven?"  
  
He groaned and pushed himself off the floor. "Come on, let's go to bed." He held a hand out to her.  
  
"Just like a man. Take the easy way out of everything," she muttered as she took his hand and followed him up the steps. 


	7. Chapter 7

Willow wrapped her hands around her mug of coffee and contemplated. "So what exactly did he say?"  
  
"I told you already." Buffy kept her back to her friend as she tidied the kitchen. Her shoulders tensed as she braced herself for the next round of questions.  
  
"So, then maybe what I'm asking is: what does it mean?"  
  
Buffy sighed and shrugged. "I don't know." She glanced out the back doors where Chloe and Danni were occupying the younger children. Angel was making a phone call in the upstairs guest room. For a moment, the temptation to pick up the phone and eavesdrop was overwhelming. "Maybe I should just take it at face value? That all he mean was that he wanted to adopt the girls?"  
  
"But you said he said something about another kid."  
  
"He did. I did," Buffy confirmed.  
  
"So," Willow paused. "Does that mean he proposed?"  
  
Buffy stopped scrubbing the counter abruptly. "I... I don't know. He never said anything like that." She picked up the sponge again and started cleaning furiously. "It's okay. I don't need to know right this minute," she said more to herself than to Willow. Casting a quick glance at the ceiling, she wondered if he'd ever get off the phone. "I'm okay with things right now."  
  
"So you're okay?" Willow cocked an eyebrow. She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent her from grinning at her friend's dilemma.  
  
"Yeah." Buffy gave what she hoped passed for a nonchalant shrug.  
  
"And you're the slightest bit curious about what he's saying on the phone right now?"  
  
"No. Not really," she lied, praying lightening didn't strike her dead on the spot.  
  
"So that's why you've been scrubbing the same tile for the past twenty minutes?"  
  
Buffy dropped the sponge. "It was dirty," she said defensively. She sighed and turned to Willow. "I'm in hell."  
  
Willow patted a chair. "Come. Sit. Let's overanalyze."  
  
  
  
"You did what?" Cordelia screeched over the phone. Angel grimaced and held it away from his ear.  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"I know I heard you. Angel, are you sure you want to do this?"  
  
Angel sighed and slumped further into the armchair in Buffy's guest room. When he first decided to call Wesley and Cordelia, he'd hoped they would provide him with clear insight. But Cordelia had refused to put Wesley on the phone until he told her what had happened, and she was anything but objective when it came to her friends. "I've given it a lot of thought."  
  
A derisive snort sounded over the phone. "I'm sure you did."  
  
He let out a sound of exasperation. "Put Wesley on the phone."  
  
"No, no. I can be good," she protested. "Let's start this over. What exactly did you say?"  
  
"I told her I wanted to adopt the girls."  
  
"I got that." He imagined her gesturing impatiently. "What's this thing about an option on a fourth?"  
  
"In case we want to have child in the future?"  
  
"You're purposely being dense," she ground out in frustration. "What does that mean? Did you propose to her?"  
  
He hedged. When he first... presented the deal to Buffy, it had seemed like a good way to get around a potentially huge argument. In the clear light of day, it seemed to open more cans of worms that he had considered the night before. "I didn't say that," he paused. "But I think that's what I meant."  
  
"Oh." She waited a beat. "Oh. You think or you know?"  
  
"I know," he said with certainty, surprised to find that he actually did know.  
  
"But you didn't actually say the magic words?"  
  
"No," he said slowly. "But it's what I meant. I'm sure she kn-"  
  
"God," Cordelia interrupted. "You can be such a guy sometimes. Angel, how is she going to know what you meant? Did she develop psychic powers recently?"  
  
"Well, this is the hellmouth," he responded absently. He tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair as he pondered Cordelia's question. "Oh."  
  
"Yeah. Oh."  
  
  
  
After hanging up the phone, Angel bounded down the back stairs into Buffy's kitchen. Willow and Buffy, still seated at Buffy's table, ceased their conversation upon his entrance. "Everything okay in Los Angeles?" Buffy asked, resisting the urge to ask him about the previous night. It could wait until later when the girls were asleep. If she lasted that long.  
  
"Everything's fine. Hi, Willow."  
  
"Hi, Angel," Willow smiled and waved but remained in her chair. She knew it would be more polite to leave, but her innate sense of curiosity compelled her to stay and watch the next act.  
  
"Willow, I have a question for you. Do you remember Chloe's birthday party?" Angel braced himself against the counter.  
  
"Yes, of course. Why?" A frown of confusion marred her brow as she tried to figure out the turns the conversation was taking.  
  
"You mentioned something about a tradition?"  
  
"A tradition?" Both Buffy and Willow echoed. Willow scrunched her face as she tried to remember the conversation to which Angel was referring. "What are you two talking about?" Buffy looked back and forth between her best friend and her lover. And was he really her lover because they'd had sex a few times? Well, she did tell him that she loved him. That should count for something. Right. Off topic, meet Buffy. From the looks on their faces, Buffy wasn't so sure she wanted to know.  
  
"A tradition," Willow murmured again. As understanding dawned, she smiled. "A tradition. Yes, I did indeed."  
  
"It would be a shame to break it," Angel said solemnly, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Yes, yes it would."  
  
"What are you-" Buffy broke off with a shriek as Angel scooped her out of her chair and into his arms. She squirmed as head to the door. Realizing his intent, she started to struggle in earnest. "No. Angel, it's just for the kids."  
  
"And the rest of us, all except you," Willow supplied as she followed them.  
  
"Relax and take it like a man," he chided as he strode across the backyard.  
  
Danni nudged Chloe as she saw Angel carrying Buffy. Chloe looked up, surprise etched on her features as she watched the strange processional. No one ever threw her mother in the pool. Mostly, she supposed, because her mother was stronger than every one else. It was a radical change of events that she watched with fascination. She glanced at Danni then jumped up and followed her parents. Cinda and Chloe, always eager to follow their big sister, were on her heels.  
  
"No, Angel, please. Don't," Buffy half protested, half laughed as Angel arrived at the edge of the pool.  
  
He shook his head and threw Buffy into the air. When she was at the height of the throw, he asked, "Marry me?"  
  
"What?" she shrieked before she hit the water.  
  
"What?" the crowd surrounding the pool asked over the sound of Buffy's splash.  
  
"What?" Buffy repeated as she resurfaced spluttering. Her hair streamed around her face and she brushed water out of her eyes. "What did you say?" she asked slowly as she swam closer to the edge.  
  
"I said, will you marry me?" Angel crouched down to help her out. Buffy gave him a wicked grin and yanked him into the water.  
  
When he resurfaced, she kissed him. Hard. "Yes."  
  
"Throw me too!" Cinda demanded as her mother and Angel kissed in the pool.  
  
  
  
Buffy handed Angel a glass of wine as she settled herself on the porch swing. A light breeze ruffled her hair and she pushed a few strands back from her face. Tugging her sweater closed around her body, she clutched her mug of cocoa to her chest. "And people think California is warm all year round," she grumbled.  
  
"You're not having any wine?" Angel asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  
  
She made a face. "Um, no. I pretty much swore off alcohol after waking up naked in Spike's crypt."  
  
Angel shuddered at the image that produced in his mind. "Thank you for the visual."  
  
She blanched and pulled away slightly. "I'm sorry. That was pretty cringe worthy wasn't it?"  
  
"Just a little."  
  
"You should try living it."  
  
"He's not really my type."  
  
"Funny," she commented dryly. "Well, to make up for it, you can tell me something ishy about your love life."  
  
"Buffy, I don't want to have this conversation," he said plaintively.  
  
"Don't be such a prude," she teased. She sat upright and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Angel flushed and looked away, refusing to meet her gaze. Yet another conversation that made him feel awkward. It never ceased to amaze him that people insisted on having such uncomfortable discussions about their sex lives. It made him nostalgic for the days when these types of conversations were taboo and left only to the pubs and taverns.  
  
"Come on, Angel," she wheedled.  
  
"Buffy, no."  
  
"Angel-"  
  
"I slept with Cordelia," he said in a rush.  
  
"What? When? Ew." She waved a hand to forestall the rebuke. "No, sorry. That was unkind. I know she's changed a lot."  
  
"I could say the same thing about Spike. Except for the changing part," Angel grumped. "And she has changed," he defended his former girlfriend.  
  
"Did you love her?"  
  
"I-" He shrugged. It was hard to explain those emotions even years later. The truth was, he did love Cordelia, loved her differently then from how he did now. But it was hard to describe, it was never conventional and it never felt the way it did with Buffy. "I guess. I thought I did at the time. Yes."  
  
"Good," she said firmly. When his shocked gaze flew to hers, she smiled gently. "I'm not saying that it doesn't hurt or that I like the idea, but I'm glad you had someone too. I'd hate to think you were alone all those years." She waited a beat, then added, "Plus, I do have two other children. It would be kind of hypocritical of me, since the stork didn't deliver them."  
  
"Yet another visual I don't need," he smiled ruefully. Older Buffy's maturity never ceased to astound him. He ran a finger across her cheekbone. It astounded him the way she never ceased to astound him. She turned into his touch and kissed his hand lightly.  
  
"I'm sorry." She grinned and leaned back into his arms. "Still love me?"  
  
"It would serve you right if I said no," he said, letting out a little grunt when she hit his stomach. Even if she was playing around, she was still incredibly strong. "Not to change the subject-"  
  
"But you're changing the subject. But it's okay, because I love you, too," she smiled up at him.  
  
"Why do you have wine in the house?  
  
"Jack used to like it with his dinner. Plus," she added, seeing his carefully blank expression, "the rest of the gang likes it. Freaks," she muttered into her mug.  
  
Buffy laced her fingers with Angel's and rested her head in the crook of his arm. "This is nice," she murmured as her eyes drifted shut.  
  
Angel rubbed his thumb over her wrist and palm. The motion made her sigh in contentment. It made her want to curl up and sleep for weeks. It made her want to jump him. Instead she mewed.  
  
"It is," he agreed, pressing a kiss on the top of her head.  
  
"You keep doing that and we'll never talk," Buffy commented.  
  
He grinned against her head. "Promise?"  
  
She elbowed him in the ribs. "Okay, talk now, nookie later."  
  
"Nookie?" he asked, amused by her terminology.  
  
"No, talking." She blew out an exasperated breath, choosing to deliberately misunderstand him.  
  
"No, I meant, when did you start using that word?"  
  
"You prefer red hot monkey love?" She raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Nookie works."  
  
"Knew you'd see it my way," she chirped. "Now where were we? Oh right, the talking part of the evening. We sort of skimmed over the conclusion last night."  
  
Angel studied the top of her head. Wisps of hair danced lightly around her face, strands catching on her mouth. After all these years, it was still one of the most beautiful faces he'd seen in over two centuries of living. It still reminded him of his first glimpse of sunlight. "We did."  
  
Buffy sighed, reluctant to initiate the conversation that had caused so many problems. She was happy to just rest in his arms. True, several of the results had been amazing, even fantastic. She happily contemplated his proposal for a minute. "Alright," she drew a deep breath, "I'm just going to be an adult and just say this. The option on a fourth child?" She tilted her head back to observe him. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at his face. Half masked in shadows, his face looked like it belonged in paintings or photographs, not sitting on a porch swing in Sunnydale. "Why aren't you a model or an actor?" she mused.  
  
Still focused on her first question, he missed her ramblings. "I just meant that we take it one day at a time and whatever happens happens."  
  
"Oh," she frowned as she considered his explanation. "Well, that makes sense." She paused. "Angel?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm putting my foot down on the fifth."  
  
"It's a deal."  
  
Buffy tensed slightly. "So," she started, hoping her voice sounded light and casual, "do you have anything else to add?"  
  
"I think that covers it for me," Angel's fingers tightened on the stem of his wineglass.  
  
"I think I'm done too." She tried to rearrange her position subtly, one foot grazed the porch floor. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she sat up straighter. "Race you?" Buffy pushed herself off the swing and dashed into the house. The door banged shut behind her. Angel wondered for a moment if he should bring the glasses in with him. Leave them, he decided. They'd be there in the morning. 


	8. Chapter 8

The early morning sunlight filtered through Buffy's gauzy curtains. It moved across the floor in bright yellow patches until it reached the bed. Angel shifted lazily as the sunlight drifted into his eyes. Beside him, Buffy stirred in her sleep, snuggling into the pillows, a slight smile on her lips. He briefly contemplated getting out of bed, but rejected that thought quickly.  
  
"Morning," Buffy mumbled sleepily.  
  
"Morning."  
  
"Mm, do we have to get up?"  
  
"No," he replied, pulling her closer to him.  
  
"Did anyone tell the girls that?"  
  
He snapped his fingers. "Knew I forgot something."  
  
Buffy raised herself onto her elbows. "Suppose we ought to get up?"  
  
"I suppose," he agreed reluctantly.  
  
"So, what do you want to do today?" Buffy smiled up at him.  
  
"Oh, I don't know. You want to get married?"  
  
Tapping a finger to her chin, Buffy studied the ceiling. "Sure," she answered, shrugging. "Why not?" Pushing herself up further, she looked at the clock over Angel's shoulder. She smacked him lightly when she saw the time. "Why didn't you tell me it was so late? You have to get out of here. Will's going to kill you then me if she finds out you slept in here last night. Bad luck and all that."  
  
Angel sat up and got out of bed. "I'm going. I'm going. Wouldn't want Willow to have to kill me." He turned at the door. "See you later?"  
  
Buffy kissed him lightly. "I'll meet you at the altar. I'll be the one wearing the white dress. Now get out." She pushed him into the hall, shutting the door firmly behind him. Sighing, she leaned back against the door. Willow would be arriving shortly with her wedding dress. She hadn't trusted Angel not to accidentally open the garment bag. Buffy tossed her hair over her shoulder and hummed quietly as she wandered into her bathroom. Sixteen years of fighting to not love Angel would end today when she walked down the aisle towards... well, she hated to be cliched, but forever.  
  
tbc... 


	9. Epilogue: Kisses Sweeter than Wine

He'd been alive for over three hundred years in one form or another, but it had taken two hundred and forty years until he'd had his first real kiss. It wasn't like he'd been innocent, or that he hadn't kissed girls. He'd kissed women, girls, whores. He'd spent the better part of his first twenty odd years on the planet in the arms of women paid to spread their legs to anyone with money enough in their wallets. The next one hundred and fifty years were stained with blood, punctuated by the screams of his victims. Two hundred and thirty-nine found him cowering in an alleyway, trying to forget the previous two hundred and thirty-eight. Trying to repent, but unable to figure out a way to account for more than a century's worth of the worst sins imaginable. At two hundred and forty, he kissed her.  
  
He'd passed the three hundred mark years back, surrounded by family and with his wife by his side. And this night signified another milestone. Family and friends had gathered to celebrate his fortieth wedding anniversary. Forty years and they didn't even comprise a third of his life.  
  
Standing on his back porch, he watched his friends and family mingle in the backyard. So this, in the end, after three hundred years, was his biography. The story of his life edited down to one backyard. Four children living, one dead, eight grandchildren, and one great grandchild on the way.  
  
"There you are," Buffy said as she joined her husband on the patio. At seventy-two, Buffy had aged gracefully, her skin still smooth and with minimal lines. Her hair, now a silvery gray, was sculpted on a bob-styled haircut that framed her face. "I thought we agreed no brooding tonight."  
  
"You agreed, not me. I'd never bargain that away." Angel smiled down at her. The years had been kind to him too. The lines around his eyes were a testament to the fact that he'd spent more of his life as a human smiling than the brooding Buffy still kidded him about.  
  
"I distinctly remember you agreeing with me."  
  
"You're old. You don't know what you remember," he teased. Buffy slapped him lightly on the shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist. She turned her attention to the yard as she surveyed her guests.  
  
"Jeez, we are old. Would you look at these people?" She swept her other arm to encompass the backyard and it's contents. "It's like an AARP convention."  
  
Angel laughed at his wife's comment. "We're going to be great grandparents soon."  
  
"Six months. Let's not rush it. It's just going to make us older." Buffy shuddered. She tilted her head back to study her husband. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day when you had gray hair," she said, lifting her hand to brush it off his forehead.  
  
Angel squeezed her shoulders. "I could say the same for you. The hairdresser's bills are so much cheaper now."  
  
"What romantic fools we are," Buffy sighed dreamily.  
  
"We're too old. That and it takes too much energy."  
  
"God, it really does," she sighed again, this time in agreement. She watched their daughters as they converged in the yard. Two brunette and two blonde heads shined in the light from the lanterns. She nodded to the quartet. "We done good."  
  
"We did," he agreed. The women all had happy families and successful careers. Chloe, a former ballerina, had retired to Sunnydale and opened a dance studio. Cinda had inherited Giles' half of the Magic Box, took over its management completely when Anya retired. Gilly, always the family ham, was a successful actress, something Cordelia claimed Gilly inherited from her. And, at thirty eight, the baby of the group, Amanda was a pediatrician.  
  
Glancing up from her conversation with her sisters, Chloe spied her parents on the porch. She excused herself from the conversation and made her way up the path to her parents. She grabbed their hands. "You two are not being joiners," she admonished.  
  
"It's your father's fault. He was brooding."  
  
"Figures." Chloe rolled her eyes. "Come on, you need to mingle. It's almost 8:30. It's almost your bedtime."  
  
"Funny kid."  
  
"I thought so."  
  
"So does this mean I'm done brooding?"  
  
"Yes," Buffy and their daughters said in unison. Angel shrugged, sighed as Chloe pulled him into the party, and abridged the mental inventory of his life. Forty years, four children living, one dead but still missed, eight grandchildren, one great grandchild on the way. So, this was his life. His biography. 


End file.
